


deep in my heart i know there's only you

by ballsdeepinjesus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mpreg, Rimming, all of that fun stuff, competitive parenting classes, ummmm it's all pregnancy and no actual birthing bc i ran out of time and plot kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6422314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballsdeepinjesus/pseuds/ballsdeepinjesus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Will you do it?” Harry whispers. Louis has to lean closer just to hear him. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, not knowing what Harry means. “Would you donate for me?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>Louis is dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I thought you just asked if I’d donate my sperm. Can you repeat yourself?”</em></p><p> </p><p>[harry and louis are best friends who engage in some platonic baby-making. very platonic.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	deep in my heart i know there's only you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zouisclimax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zouisclimax/gifts).



> hiiiiiiiiiiiiii. so this fic has been a bit of a challenge. i've had p bad writer's block for the past year but i was writin', writin', writin', and then late january hit and suddenly i was feelin a lil awko abt mpreg. but i did it! not sure how i feel abt it and it's a wee bit rushed at the end but i tried sigh.
> 
> to zouisclimax, my deepest apologies for the lack of parks and rec within this prompt. i tried to slide, like, 2 references in there but i'm an asshole and i failed. i hope u like at least 5.7% of this fic
> 
> (also!!! i use html to add italics and stuff when i'm writing but it seems like some of it isn't working for reasons that escape me so if u notice any movie titles or texts that aren't italicized thats why, nbd)

“You’re acting weird,” Louis states, peering suspiciously over his cup at Harry. “Don’t even tell me that you’re not, you filthy liar.”

Harry averts his eyes, his face flushing as he drags a leaf of lettuce over his plate with the prongs of his fork. “Weird how?” he asks. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“Like fuck you don’t,” Louis curses, picking up a chip and tossing it at Harry who deflects it with his fork. “Nice,” he grants offhandedly. “You know exactly what I mean. Dodging my calls, canceling our lunches because you’ve got ‘appointments.’ You look like you’re hardly even there when we are together.” Louis huffs out an annoyed breath and pushes his back into the booth’s cushions as he crosses his arms. “Tell me the truth. Have you gotten into some trouble? Need a loan? Started selling your body to settle your debts? Is it drugs? The mafia? Have you gotten a secret boyfriend I don’t know about?” He pauses. “Scratch that last one, much too far-fetched.”

“Louis!” Harry nibbles on his bottom lip as he tries to stifle the little giggles that escape his mouth. “You know it’s none of that. You’d be the first person to know if I suddenly got a boyfriend.” He sobers after a moment and shrugs, looking down at his plate as he slowly adds, “It’s just--there’s something I need to tell you eventually. But it’s all rather up in the air right now, you know? And frankly, I’m terrified of how you’ll react.” 

“H,” Louis answers softly, reaching over the table to place his hand over Harry’s. They’ve been friends for ages, _best_ friends for nearly as long. He doesn’t take kindly to not knowing Harry’s secrets. “You can tell me anything, you know that. If something’s on your mind, I’d like to know. Plus, I’ll just nag you until you wind up telling me anyway.”

Harry nods and drums his fingers against the table, clearly weighing his words. “I’m looking for a sperm donor.”

Louis, who had been about to take a sip of his tea, sputters into his cup as he breaks out into cackles. “Good one, pal. Very funny.” Harry stares at him worriedly, his fingers drumming even faster against the surface. The silence between them stretches until Louis thinks everyone in the diner has stopped in their tracks, watching their table in rapt attention. He turns his head and--nope, everyone is going about their business. Just him then. 

“Not a joke,” Harry replies after a moment. “Very much not a joke.”

“What the fuck,” Louis says. “ _What_ the fuck. What the fuck?”

“Stop saying that,” Harry chastises. 

“You’re getting a sperm donor! To become pregnant?”

“No, I just want to collect complete strangers’ semen. Yes, Louis, that’s generally what single people do with donated sperm. I’m going to have a baby. By myself.” Harry sighs and pushes his plate away from him. He glances down at his belly and rubs a hand over the flat expanse of it, plucking one of the buttons of his shirt on the way down. 

It’s not that Louis never expected Harry to have a baby. In the back of his head he’s always had a hazy vision of Harry, years down the road, with a faceless, fit husband and a gaggle of little children to care for. Harry’s a nurse, a nurse who decided to work at a small family doctor’s office instead of a hospital. A nurse who knows every one of the office’s little patients by name. He loves children, of course he’d have his own someday. But he didn’t think it would happen _now_. And definitely not under these circumstances.

“By yourself?” he croaks. “I thought you wanted the husband, the dream marriage and the dream house and the--the whole nuclear family thing? Even a white picket fence?”

Shrugging, Harry answers, “I’m not waiting around anymore. I’ve been single for three years, Lou, and that doesn’t look like it’s changing anytime soon. It’s 2016! I’m not waiting around for someone to put a ring on it.” He waves his hand animatedly in the air to punctuate his point. “There’s no reason I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m not saying you can’t do it,” Louis hedges carefully. “I’m saying I’m surprised that you’d want to. For the rest of your child’s life they’ll just have this anonymous, faceless guy as their father. Why can’t you just wait?”

“My child won’t suffer from me being a single parent, Louis.” Harry’s voice grows a bit steely as he admonishes him. “I don’t need someone else to raise a happy child.”

Well, _fuck_. That wasn’t at all what he meant. “Harry, no. I’d never say that. We’re proof enough that single parents can raise reasonably functional adults.” He’d argue that Harry was slightly more functional than himself, simply for the size and quality of his grocery list alone, but he’s made it into adulthood without any _major_ problems, thank you very much. “Plus, it’s you. I know you’ve got a future world leader ready to be cooked up in your oven, babe. You’re brilliant, your babies will be brilliant.”

Harry sputters out a laugh and kicks at Louis’ shin gently under the table. “Thanks for that image. Are you giving your approval then?”

“You didn’t _need_ my approval to begin with,” Louis argues. “I’m not going to lie to you and say I think this is the best idea.” He cuts off the protests he knows are about to leave Harry’s mouth with a wave of his hand. “Simply because I know you, H, and I know how badly you wanted the whole picture. I don’t want you to go this route because you think you have to, or you think you’re running out of time. But I also know you’ve already planned this out meticulously and you have about five hundred brochures and info packets on your coffee table right now.”

“Five hundred and one,” Harry corrects, his lips twitching upwards. 

“Noted,” Louis says. “I’ll help you with anything you need. On one condition.” Harry frowns and tilts his head. “You’re gonna let me help choose the donor. Just like when we’re at a club and I have to chase all of those creeps away who only want you for your body.”

“My hero,” he replies, sarcasm steeping in his voice. “Of course you can. I actually have an appointment next week to look at some applications, if you’d like to join me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling. Now, can we move onto less world-altering topics and let me catch my breath for a mo’?”

***

Louis takes off work the day of Harry’s meeting with the donor specialist easily enough; government work always allows for at least twelve other people who are capable of doing your job. He drives across town and meets Harry outside of the clinic, grinning at the sight of his outfit, painted-on white skinnies and a soft blue and white, polka dotted blouse, unbuttoned to almost his belly button. “Gonna have to give up those jeans once you blow up. What will you do then?”

“Paige Denim sells maternity jeans. I’m going to be fashionable until the end,” Harry snips.

“I’m sure you will,” Louis laughs. “We going inside then? Can’t wait to see the lineup.”

“This isn’t a police station, Lou,” Harry answers as he turns and leads them through the doors. The clinic is brightly painted, not at all like the sterile white room Louis had been picturing. The reception area is painted a tranquil sea green with geometric-patterned paneling running through the center. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with glasses, greets them. “Hi!” Harry trills. “I have a meeting with Cheryl at three o’clock about looking at some applications?”

The secretary taps away at her computer for a moment. “Styles?” she asks. “Cheryl actually just got back from lunch so you can head right to her office! Third door on your left, down the hallway.” 

“Thanks so much,” Harry chirps, waving Louis along to follow him down the hallway. Louis gulps as he trails behind, eyes bouncing off the walls as if he expects to see something seedy going on. All he sees are framed photos of perfectly normal-looking families so he tries to settle his nerves. If anything Harry should be the nervous one, but Louis feels like they’re marching to their deaths. 

“Here we are,” Harry announces. “Stop looking like that. You’re not the one getting knocked up with a stranger’s sperm.”

“No, but you are! And I don’t want to carry the guilt of accidentally choosing some serial killer and having you birth little killer babies.” Harry looks distinctly unimpressed as he knocks on the door and rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore him. 

A sweet woman with a round face and a warm smile opens the door after a minute and hugs Harry enthusiastically. “Harry! I’m glad you’re here! I’m so excited to show you your options. And who’s this?” she asks after ushering them inside and seating them in plush armchairs across from her desk.

“Louis, Louis Tomlinson” he offers, reaching across the desk to shake her hand. 

“Are you his boyfriend? I thought you were single, Mr. Styles!” She turns to Louis with a sympathetic frown, not letting either of them protest. “Impotence affects many men, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re open to seeking other options; most people are too proud. Harry’s tests have shown that he’s remarkably fertile, so I’m sure this will be a breeze.”

Louis sputters and coughs while a scarlet-faced Harry finally intervenes. “He’s just a friend, Cheryl. He’s like, he’s my best friend, really, and I wanted his support today. So. Yes. Still single,” he cheers awkwardly.

“Oh no,” she sighs. “I’m sorry. Most people come alone or with their spouse to these meetings, but I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No harm done,” Louis croaks, tapping his fingers against the arm rest and looking anywhere but at Harry. It’s not the first time people have confused them for a couple, probably not the last either, but it never seems to get any less awkward. He’s not sure why; people have thought him and Niall were a couple before and Louis _loved_ teasing Niall about it -- still does -- but for some reason, whenever it’s Harry and him, Louis clams up. They’re too close, he thinks, the suggestion too preposterous. At least he’s pretty sure that’s it. 

“Right. Well, let’s get into it then shall we?” Cheryl says cheerily. She pulls a thick manilla folder out of her drawer and pushes it to the edge of the table. Harry moves first, flipping open the folder and reading the first page. “The gist of what you’re reading is that we work in conjunction with a sperm bank in London who matches us with possible donors. The donor has the right to complete anonymity throughout this process. A lot of the men granted us permission to use their picture and some didn’t, although we do provide a brief description of their appearance in the event that they don’t, just so you have some kind of idea.”

“Sick,” Louis answers, just to have something to say. He scoots his chair closer to Harry’s as he flips to the next page and the first donor. The small, grainy photo provided shows a man with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. His smile reads as a bit smarmy in his opinion, so he has to object. “His name is Chet? What a prat.”

Harry rolls his eyes and reads over his details. “Quite tall. Very into sports. That’s all of the info on him?”

Cheryl winces and nods. “Some of the donors aren’t exactly...forthcoming with their interests.”

“Everyone likes sports. Not exactly unique,” Louis comments. “He’s not for you.”

“Well, you have the final word don’t you?” Harry muses with a smile. He flips the page anyway. “Alexi. 32, six-foot-two, brown hair and brown eyes.” 

Louis scrutinizes his picture and shakes his head. “Looks a bit sketchy to me. And what kind of name is Alexi? Knew a girl in school named Lexi, Alexis, something like that. Hated her. Stole me crush and went out with him for a year. Skip him then.”

“Great reasoning,” Harry replies, skimming over the rest of the application. “Doesn’t like cats. Bye, Alexi.” He flips to the next application. Louis glances up at Cheryl and sees her watching the both of them with a bemused frown. Louis averts his eyes.

“Charles. Wasn’t there a famous serial killer named Charles? What did I tell you, Harry?” Louis jokes, pinching Harry’s side, making him snort and squirm in his chair. “Let me read this one. 5’9”--good height--, blonde hair-- _again_ , why don’t you just have a baby with Niall for fuck’s sake--brown eyes, slim build. Enjoys reading and traveling just like every other twentysomething in the world. He’s boring. It’s a no from me.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Harry answers. “But I don’t exactly feel a pull towards his application, so I’ll move on.”

They go through two more--a handsome coffee-skinned man named James who Louis rejects on Harry’s behalf on the basis that he can’t have a child with a _librarian_ , everyone knows they’re trouble, and a wormy-looking ginger with a stupid name that the two of them immediately reject once they see his picture. Cheryl interrupts, wearily asking, “Is there a certain kind of application you’re looking for in particular, Mr. Styles?” She emphasizes Harry’s name with a pointed glare in Louis’ direction as if he’s somehow the problem here and not her shit skills at picking suitable donors. Honestly, how is Harry supposed to have a baby with someone whose favorite tea is _Lipton_.

“Um, well. I like someone who’s nice. Someone who’s funny. Someone who’s fun to be around.”

“This isn’t a dating show, Harold, you’re choosing someone’s sperm to feed into your little baby-making organs,” Louis cuts in. “Besides, you can’t choose someone based off of those characteristics! Christ, I’m nice and funny and fun to be around.” Harry blushes and looks down at his lap as he continues, “You need good reasons like...like being great at footie. Being some fancy scientist in some fancy lab. Doing charity work in their free time. Plays at least two instruments.”

“I’m not sure this is stuff that would get passed down through genetics,” Harry finally protests. 

“You never know,” Louis answers. “Don’t think you should risk it, meself.”

“Not to be rude, but I’d like to remind everyone that Harry is choosing his donor,” Cheryl argues hotly. As time goes in, Cheryl’s face becomes less kind and more terrifying. But really, it’s not his fault that she’s not good at her job.

“I’ll just...look at the last few applications quickly,” Harry says, hastily flipping the page and skimming the next few. Louis doesn’t bother looking; he leans back in his chair with his hands clasped in his lap and busies himself by counting the number of highlighters in the cup on Cheryl’s desk. Harry finishes not ten minutes later, closing the folder with a disappointed sigh. “I’m sorry, but none of them feel right at the moment. Can I take some time to think it over?”

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll pull some more applications for you in the meantime. Just because you didn’t find a match today doesn’t mean someone perfect isn’t out there for you!”

“He’s not going on a bloody date with ‘im,” Louis mutters under his breath. He stands with Harry while he says his goodbyes and gives his thanks, sending Cheryl a salute as he leaves the office. He shoves his fists into his jean jacket pockets as they walk down the hall in silence. Harry looks so dejected that Louis can’t help but try and cheer him up. “Chin up, babes. This is just the start! You didn’t want to choose someone immediately anyway. There could always be someone better out there.”

Harry stays silent, the troubled look on his face unnerving Louis as they walk to their cars. “Harry? You’re not that upset are you? Was it me? I know I was a little take-charge in there but you asked me to help so--.”

“You,” Harry squeaks, clearing his throat right after. His face flushes as he spins around and jingles his keys to try and unlock his car door.

“Me?” Louis asks. “So it is actually me you’re upset with? Listen Harry, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t come next time and you’ll be able to choose better.”

“No, um. You. Will you do it?” Harry whispers. Louis has to lean closer just to hear him. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, not knowing what Harry means. “Would you donate for me?”

Louis is dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I thought you just asked if I’d donate my sperm. Can you repeat yourself?”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry whines. “Don’t make me say it again, please. I’m pissing myself as is. You heard us in there. I want someone who’s nice and funny and all of that, which you are. I know what you look like and what your siblings look like and all of your quirks and all of your interests and hobbies and--and I trust you more than anybody.”

“I still eat Coco Pops for every meal on some days, Harry,” he says. “I can’t--I’m not a father.”

“You want kids too, I know you do. But even so, I’m not asking you to be the father if you don’t want to be. You could be the cool uncle or something. You’ll just happen to look suspiciously like your nephew.”

Louis scoffs, like hell he’ll be the cool uncle to a child with half his bloody DNA.

“I’m not asking for a decision now and I know I’m asking way too much of you,” Harry continues. “But in the office right there? I felt so uneasy about all of it. The more I think about it the more nervous I get. I don’t know if I can do this with anyone but you. I think our baby would be the best possible baby I could have.”

“I am devilishly handsome,” Louis croaks. Harry gives him a watery smile and nods.

“Just think about it please? Take all the time you need.”

In the end, it takes Louis four hours, three beers, two phone calls to his mum, and one look at his mantelpiece, lined with countless pictures of his friends and siblings, but completely lacking in pictures of what he wants most. He’s thirty years old, in the same boat as Harry, and his best friend in the entire world is offering him the chance to have a _family_. He texts Harry a simple, “ **so how is this going to work then ?** right before bed, waking up to an entire page of celebratory emojis in the morning. He knows he made the right choice.

***

He sees Harry the next day when the other boy surprises him at his flat with freshly-baked muffins and a hesitant but excited smile. He lifts the tupperware container in greeting. “Lemon poppyseed,” he offers. He pulls his other hand out of his jacket pocket and reveals a small tub of cheap frosting. “And gross sugar spread since I know you all too well.”

“I already said yes, H. I don’t need you to butter me up,” Louis replies. He grabs the muffins anyway and shuffles to the kitchen. 

“I know you did! I’m not trying to butter you up, I just want to thank you.” He rings his hands in front of him nervously. “It’s huge, what you’re doing, and I’m never going to be able to properly thank you enough for it.”

Louis ponders this for a moment before responding, “Does this mean you’ll make me muffins everyday, then to make up for it? Joking, joking! Honestly, it was an easy decision to make. At the end of the day, I want a family too, Harry. We’re in the same boat on that. I know you said I could be the ‘cool uncle’ or something, but would it change things if I said I--if I said I wanted to be in the baby’s life as the father?” He feels uneasy asking. Maybe Harry doesn’t want another father figure for this child, maybe this complicates everything too much.

“Of course, Lou,” Harry breathes out softly. He nearly bowls Louis over with a hug, clutching him desperately tight, his face tucked into Louis’ neck. “I’d like nothing more than to have a weird little pseudo-family with you.”

“Weird little pseudo-family,” Louis repeats, petting at the back of Harry’s head and threading his fingers through his curls. “Sounds about right, actually. Now you never answered me last night. How does this work exactly?”

Harry detaches himself from Louis slowly and sighs. “That’s the annoying part. They have to test you and make sure your sperm is good enough. If it’s not, this won’t even work and the both of us will be screwed.”

Louis lets out an offended squawk. “I’ll have you know my little swimmers are Olympic-level. No worries on that end.”

“Had lots of practice making babies to already know that, have you?” Harry asks, grabbing a muffin and biting into it, raising his eyebrow in challenge. He has a point.

“Fine. I’ll take the stupid test.”

“Thanks!” Harry grins. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure the potency of your semen is amazing. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“I can’t believe we’re having a baby,” Louis muses. “Pretty sick.” Harry rolls his eyes and breaks off a piece of muffin to toss at his face. “But then after that, do I just jerk off into a cup and they put it inside of you? Like a turkey baster?”

“Oh my God,” a horrified Harry whispers. “I’m not a turkey, Louis. They use your sperm and send it through a catheter to my reproductive organs when I’m especially fertile. That’s it.”

“I don’t see how that’s not like a turkey baster. But okay, cool. When should I be tested?”

“As soon as possible preferably. I have to finish my course of fertility drugs in the meantime, but after that comes the insemination. Hopefully. God I really hope it works,” Harry sighs.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Louis questions, finally grabbing a muffin and cracking into the tub of frosting, spreading a thick layer all over the top. 

“It just doesn’t take for some people,” he says. “Artificial insemination is still relatively new in the grand scheme of things when you really think about it, so. It’s not guaranteed.”

“Well, it’s us. The dream team. Pretty sure we can do anything we put our minds to,” Louis boasts. He walks over and knocks their shoulders together to comfort him. “Not to brag, but our baby is gonna kick everyone’s asses.” 

“We shouldn’t be encouraging violence this young,” Harry replies, but he’s laughing as he says it, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk’s in a way they only seem to do around Louis. He’s always quite chuffed to see it, a pleasant reminder that Harry somehow thinks he’s the funniest person in the world.

“Save the parenting talk for later,” Louis says. “There’s a spot on the couch with your name on it. I want you to finish watching _The Walking Dead_ with me.” He walks away grinning at the predictable sound of whines coming from behind him. 

“I told you it’s too scary, Lou!” Harry trudges along anyway, plopping himself on the couch in a little ball next to him. 

Louis grabs the remote and offers up his left side for Harry to cuddle into. “But we both know you’ve got a boner for Andrew Lincoln, so shut up and watch with me.”

Harry’s silence says everything.

***

“I always knew you two would have babies.” Louis’ fork screeches across his plate loudly at his mum’s declaration, a bit of his steak flying across the table onto hers. “Louis! Manners, darling.”

“Sorry, Mum,” he answers automatically. “But what?”

She laughs, a tinkling sound that has always brought a warm feeling to his chest. “I always knew you’d have babies. For so long you just kept telling me you were just ‘ _best friends_ ’, but I saw right through that one.”

“Mum, I--I think you’ve misunderstood the situation.” He’d called her the night Harry had sprung the question on him, but he’d mostly been babbling incoherently about babies and Harry so he can’t blame her for not understanding. “Harry and I aren’t actually together. We’re just going to have a baby. Through the miracle of science. We’re still just best friends.”

She stares at him blankly, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinizes his face. “Sweetheart, people don’t have babies with their best friends without romantic feelings. That’s just not done.”

“Well we are,” he argues. “We’ll raise it together but...apart, I suppose. Actually, I think we should talk about that. I’m not sure how we’re handling the living situation.” He muses that one over, making a mental note to ask Harry the next time he sees him. Which conveniently is tomorrow, the day he donates his sperm for testing. What is his life. 

His mum looks slightly less ecstatic than she did five minutes ago. Louis can see the questions brimming at her lips, so he stops her before she starts. “Neither of us has had a steady partner in the past five years, Mum. My longest relationship in that time frame lasted two months and that’s being generous. We just want to have a baby in our prime years; I want to be able to jog after them on the pitch without havin’ me knees give out. It just works best for both of us.”

“It sounds so mechanical, Louis. I thought you’d have a baby out of love, not because you felt like you had to because you were running out of time,” she replies, reaching across the table to cup her hand over his.

“It will be out of love, Mum, I promise. I love Harry; he’s my best friend. I couldn’t think of anyone in the world I’d rather do this with.”

“That’s what I worry about, baby. Are you sure you don’t have...feelings?” she asks.

Louis groans. It’s a question he’s grown tired of hearing. _Feelings_. Loving your best friend and wanting to be with them constantly and feeling protective and fond and passionate about everything they do is completely normal in his opinion. That’s what best friends are supposed to do!

“I _feel_ that Harry is my best friend. Friend. I promise.”

“If you say so, Lou. Onto more important questions: do you think I’m more of a Granny or a Nana?”

***

“I’m absolutely pissin’ meself,” Louis moans, slumping down in a uncomfortably padded chair in the sperm bank’s waiting room. Harry sits at his side looking concerned with the current state he’s in. He’d been fine that morning, honestly. He’d made himself a real breakfast, went for an actual run around the neighborhood, got home, showered and dressed all before Harry had shown up at his door. They’d driven down together and Louis had been totally fine until he sat down with the paperwork in front of him.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Harry asks. “It’s okay if you are, I’d understand.”

“No!” Louis protests. “Not at all. I’m just--I feel so _anxious_. I’m sure my sperm count is fine or whatever, but. I don’t know if I can wank right now.”

“What do you mean? Did you do it too many times last night or something?”

“What?! No! Not for weeks to be honest. It’s just so...sterile in here.” Unlike the atmosphere at the fertility clinic, the sperm bank is like a hospital. Everything is bright white, from the walls to the tiles to the lights that are blinding him every time he looks up. “I feel like I’m about to go into surgery or something.”

“Oh,” Harry answers, glancing around the building as if he’s just noticing it. “I see what you mean.”

“Tomlinson!” a man calls from the doorway. Louis stands up and shoots Harry a nervous thumbs up as he walks over. “Louis Tomlinson?” the man asks. He nods. “Come with me.” He leads him down the hallway, the door behind them closing with a loud _thud_. Near the end of the hall, the man opens the door on the right and gestures him inside. It’s a small room, with a toilet in the corner and a small sink at its side. On the other side of the room is a plastic chair next across from a mounted television and a metal cabinet stands in the corner. The man puts gloves on and grabs a cup from inside the cabinet, wiping it down with an alcohol pad before placing it on the sink He pulls out a stack of magazines and DVDs from the cabinet next and turns to ask, “Men or women?”

“What?” 

“Men or women,” he repeats impatiently. “You need to ejaculate into that cup. We provide you with any entertainment, within reason, that you may need to help that happen. Do you prefer men or women?”

“Um, men,” Louis answers. 

The guy nods and pulls a few magazines and DVDs from the pile, handing them to Louis with a nod. “I’ll be down the hall. Just come out when you’re finished and leave the cup inside.”

“Right,” he says, grimacing when the door closes and he’s left by himself in the dimly lit room. He feels like he’s doing something wrong, like he’s a lonely creep in the back of a sex shop on a Tuesday night. He glances at the magazines, a beat up copy of _Bear Hunting Magazine_ featuring a hairy, thickly-muscled older man flexing his biceps, and an outrageously old copy of _Playgirl_ ; he tosses them to the side with a groan. The DVDs are even worse, as he’s not particularly into hairy daddies or straight uni bros doing gay-for-pay. He drops them to the floor with the rest and sits in the creaky plastic chair with his head in his hands. 

“Do it for Harry, do it for Harry, do it for Harry,” he repeats to himself. He stands and walks to the toilet, slowly unzipping his jeans and pushing them to his thighs along with his pants. He closes his eyes and grips his penis with one hand, slowly rubbing at himself to try to get _something_ stirring down there. For the first time in his life he wishes he was back in school when he seemed to be able to pop a stiffy at anything. There’s just nothing sexy about this moment. He can’t even pretend to be aroused as he cycles through fuzzy images of past hookups in his head. 

“This is pathetic,” he mutters after two minutes of absolutely nothing. He’s just as limp as he started, maybe more so if that’s even possible. 

“Do it for Harry,” he repeats emphatically. If he passes this test, who knows how many samples he’ll have to give until they’re successful. He’s got to get used to this now.

It’s not working. Louis wraps his fist around himself and starts working his dick slowly, hoping something will happen but it doesn’t. He tries a different tactic. “What would Harry do?” he whispers to himself, picturing it on one of those cheesy bumper stickers he sees on the back of grannies cars’. He thinks of his best friend, sitting out in the waiting room hopeful that Louis will come through. No pun intended. Probably pinching his lip like he always does when he’s nervous, his big doe eyes wide as he watches the door Louis walked through.

Then, abruptly, Louis’ cock starts to wake up from its coma. His hand flies away in shock, clinging to his tummy while he watches horrified at his dick giving a feeble twitch. He finally starts to grow hard...after thinking about--.

“I can’t do this,” he mutters, panicked. He stuffs his traitorous prick back into his pants and zips himself up quickly. He leaves the room and speed walks down the hallway towards the man--Louis still doesn’t know his name and he doesn’t fucking want to either--who looks up from a clipboard as he walks by.

“Finished already?” he asks. Arse.

“Couldn’t do it mate! Sorry to waste to your time,” he says, breezing past and through the door. He can see Harry snap his head up at the sound, giving Louis the brightest, most hopeful smile. The guilt washes over him in tsunami waves and he almost can’t bear to look at his face. Harry must see something in his, however, because his face becomes pinched in worry; he stands and meets Louis halfway, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asks.

“I fucked up,” Louis groans. “I fucked up everything, I just. I can’t do it. I couldn’t get hard and then I panicked and then I ran. I fucked everything up for you, for us. I’m so sorry Harry.”

He tries to walk away, but Harry tugs on his hand and pulls him back into a hug. “Louis, no. Don’t take this out on yourself. I asked you to do a lot here and I don’t want you to feel like you failed just because it was too much to handle.” Louis expects to see some trace of disappointment in his eyes, but he finds nothing but kindness. Of course he does. Because it’s _Harry_. That just makes him feel worse.

“Harry, we really wanted this. I really wanted this. Now what do we have?”

“Don’t think about it like that,” he answers. “We’re going to figure something out. But just know that I’m not upset with you and you shouldn’t be either. Please, Lou.”

The ride back to Louis’ place is quiet; he mopes in the passenger seat while Harry glances at him worriedly every red light like he’s going to have a breakdown. Which honestly might be a legitimate concern. 

Eventually, Louis notices that Harry’s looks become less worried and more pensive, almost hopeful by the time they reach his flat. 

“I have an idea,” Harry blurts out. “But you have to hear me out on it.”

“What is it?” he asks.

“We’ve been best friends for ages, yeah? I’m closer to you than anyone in the world.”

“Yes, likewise,” Louis interrupts, not sure where this is going.

“So like, I don’t think it would be _that_ weird for us to have a baby the, uh. Natural way.”

“Natural way,” Louis repeats. “Natural like…”

“Like the old-fashioned way.” No way. He couldn’t be suggesting--. “Like we should have sex I think.”

“As in sexual intercourse? Just checking.”

“Yes, Louis, as in _sex_. You’ve seen me naked--.”

“Lots of people have seen you naked, buddy.” It’s true. Harry’s comfortable with public nudity to a an almost exhibitionist degree. 

“Regardless! It doesn’t have to be weird! We shouldn’t let it become weird. What’s a bit of platonic baby-making between friends, you know?” 

“I feel like sex between mates isn’t very platonic, but maybe that’s just me,” Louis laughs.

“Well we can do it. We deserve to have a baby, Lou. We can’t let an awkward trip to the sperm bank hold us back from that.” Harry looks so earnest, so sure that this will work just fine. Louis almost can’t help but agree. “Do you think I’m attractive at all?”

“I mean. You’re not unfortunate-looking,” Louis offers.

“Oh, thanks. I’m comfortable with admitting that you are quite steamy,” Harry snips. “If the physical compatibility is there, what’s holding us back?”

Louis heaves out a heavy sigh and rests his head against his seat, closing his eyes. “Platonic baby-making. What the hell, why not?”

Harry screeches in excitement and pulls to an abrupt stop in the parking space outside of Louis’ flat, reaching across the front seat to hug him.

“Alright, alright!” Louis yells. “Jesus, didn’t know were this excited to get in my pants, Styles.”

Harry swats him softly and rolls his eyes. “Guess I should cancel all of my fertility appointments. Cheryl will be heartbroken.”

“Cheryl hates me so she can kindly fuck off. We’re making a goddamn baby, Haz.”

Harry’s blinding grin has him on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

***

Harry handles the planning of course. During his most fertile week, the both of them are taking off work and locking themselves in Harry’s flat. To fuck. Like bunnies.

(“My arse is going to be so sore,” Harry whines.

“Don’t act like you hate it,” Louis shoots back.)

He thinks it’s a reasonable use of their vacation time.

Louis arrives at Harry’s flat on a Friday night with just a duffel bag and his mobile charger. Harry welcomes him in, the smile on his face betraying just a touch of nerves.

“Um, I don’t know if you ate already, but I made some dinner, nothing too serious.”

“Think I might save it for later. Not a huge fan of, uh, going to town with a full stomach, really.” Louis pats his stomach and frowns. 

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Harry answers. “Um. Did you want to just jump right in then, or.”

Louis has never felt this nervous in his life. He’s not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, but he feels a bit like it now. Best friends aren’t supposed to do this. And yet here they are, trying to prove everybody wrong. He knows they can make this work -- the two of them, together, can do anything -- but it’s still scary.

“How about we relax first? You have any wine?”

Harry puts _Love Actually_ \--(“It’s not even Christmas anymore Harry, Jesus.”)--on the TV and they relax on his couch with a shared bottle of wine between them. They don’t bother with glasses, instead chugging it straight from the bottle like the true adults they are. By the time Harry’s yelling at Alan Rickman’s character on screen and calling him an unfaithful bastard, both of them are pleasantly loose and tipsy, any trace of nerves dissolved.

“God I love Colin Firth. And Hugh Grant. _Bridget Jones’ Diary_ would have been much different if I was Bridget,” Harry comments.

“Think that’s called a porno, baby,” Louis answers, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry who barks out a laugh and claps his hands.

His nerves have almost dissipated by the time the movie ends; he ruffles Harry’s hair while he sniffles about how Emma Thompson deserved better than that shithead Snape.

“I know, love, I know,” Louis coos, cuddling him close as he sulks. “But everyone else was happy! Ish! Love is all around, yadda yadda yadda…”

“Especially for Natalie. Lucky woman,” Harry whines, heaving out an overdramatic sigh.

“Why won’t you just have a baby with Hugh Grant then, Harry?” Louis teases. 

Harry looks up at him with sparkling eyes and an earnest smile. “No. Only want babies with you, Louis.”

“Right back at you, pet,” Louis sighs, brushing a random lock of hair away from Harry’s cheek. “Speaking of which, you think it’s time?”

Harry nods, standing on two wobbly feet and making his way to his bedroom. “C’mon!” he calls. “All of the lube is in here!”

“Romantic,” Louis whispers to himself in amusement. He follows Harry into the bedroom just in time to see him strip off his shirt and fling himself onto the bed. He’s only dressed in his joggers, spread across the bed like a starfish. He waves Louis over. Louis slips his hoodie off but leaves his shirt on, kneeing his way onto the bed, and sits at Harry’s side with his back propped against the headboard. “How are we doing this?” he asks.

“Well Louis, you put your penis inside of me--.”

Louis groans and throws himself over Harry’s body, tickling the sensitive, softly unformed skin on his sides. Harry giggles loudly, yelling for him to get off of him, but Louis doesn’t let up until Harry starts squirming underneath of him, trying to buck him off. 

“You’re such a prick,” Harry says breathlessly, shielding his stomach from any more surprise attacks. 

“You love it,” Louis argues. He puts one palm on either side of Harry’s head and stares him down. “‘Should we kiss?’ is what I meant.”

“Think we better,” Harry whispers. Louis darts down and places a small peck on Harry’s lips that barely lasts more than a second. “Oh yes, very sexy,” Harry simpers. “Take me now you animal.”

“Shut up,” Louis laughs, leaning down to kiss him again, longer this time. He moves his head to the side to deepen the kiss but it just feels so strange, so foreign. That’s _Harry’s_ big nose digging into his cheek, his bony knee currently digging into his stomach. He has to laugh; he blows air into Harry’s mouth as he tries to stifle his snickering. 

“This is a bruise to my ego,” Harry complains, but Louis can see the laughter lurking in his face too. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “This is just really weird.”

Harry shakes his head fondly and just lays there, happily looking up at him. He looks so sweet, so content, that Louis has to duck down for another kiss, a softer one this time. He runs his fingers through Harry’s hair and cups his cheek gently, thumb brushing the top of his cheekbone. 

“See, this is nice kissing,” he pulls back to whisper, brushing his lips in feather light touches across Harry’s jawline.

“Very nice,” Harry sighs. He lifts his hand to Louis’ neck and tugs him back to his lips, humming into his mouth as he opens himself up for him. He spreads his legs and lets Louis fit himself between them, his other hand coming up behind Louis to grip the back of his t-shirt.

Louis slips his tongue into Harry’s open mouth. He tilts Harry’s head to the side this time, flicking his tongue against Harry’s. The moan Harry lets out almost startles him into stopping but he doesn’t; he moves his hand down Harry’s body, gently caressing the skin he tickled earlier. He thumbs curiously over Harry’s nipple, feeling extraordinarily pleased as Harry gasps into his mouth and gently rocks his hips up against Louis’ own. 

“Less awkward?” he asks, kissing his way down and across Harry’s neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin under his ears. He tastes sweet, like the strawberry and mint body wash he always uses, but it’s not too overpowering. 

“Yeah,” Harry answers breathlessly, tossing his head to the side so Louis has better access to his neck. Louis bites gently, so gently, at the pulsing vein in his neck, feeling vaguely like a vampire. Harry’s reaction is visceral; his breath cuts off sharply into a choked moan while he digs his fingernails into Louis’ back and bucks his hips up forcefully. He’s getting hard, Harry too, and he’s surprised at how quickly the nervousness between them faded into slow, simmering heat. He leans back and tugs at the back of his neck to pull his shirt up and over his head, lowering his torso against Harry’s and feeling the scorching heat of Harry’s skin against his own.

It’s so unexpectedly hot. He can hardly remember the last time he was this into foreplay. He goes back to kissing Harry, deep and messy and hot, licking into his mouth roughly while Harry whines and wiggles beneath him. He pinches Harry’s nipple and runs his hand along the length of his torso to tickle at the strip of skin above his joggers.

“Can I take them off?”

Harry nods in response, lifting his hips off the bed to help Louis wiggle them off his hips. He’s not wearing pants--shocker--so his swollen cock comes to rest against his belly, wetness pooling at the tip. Louis wraps his fist around him loosely and swirls his thumb around his head to spread his precome around.

“No,” Harry moans. “Wanna touch you.” He pushes himself up on weak forearms and pushes Louis off to the side, climbing right on top of him with his naked bum resting over the bulge in his joggers. Louis hisses and grabs Harry’s hips to steady him, but Harry merely grins and grinds down against his cock. His dick fits perfectly between his cheeks, the head of it soaking through his joggers as Harry works himself faster. He runs his hands all over Louis’ torso, fingernails dragging through the downy hair that decorates his chest. Louis moves his hands over to Harry’s cheeks, digging his fingers into his perky arse harshly; Harry gasps and his grinding comes to an abrupt halt. 

Louis smugly inches his fingers closer to the cleft of his arse, brushing the pad of his middle finger down, down, down until it brushes against his hole. Harry shakes involuntarily in his arms, arching his back and pushing his arse out further for better access. Louis drags his finger over his entrance, teasing him more than anything, which seems to irritate Harry. He growls and reaches over to his nightstand to grab the little tube of lubricant he left there. The bottle is decorated with cartoonish strawberries so he assumes it's flavored; he makes a mental note to make fun of Harry for that later. He reaches behind himself and twists around so he can see Louis’ hand, popping the cap and pouring an obscene amount on his wandering fingers. 

“There,” he says with a proud grin. “No more teasing.”

“You’re spoiling all of my fun,” Louis chides, but there’s no heat behind it. He’s laying in bed with his best friend naked on top of him and there’s nearly an entire bottle of lube spilled on his hand, the sheets, Harry’s arse, and anything in between. Yet he genuinely can’t imagine this happening any other way. They’re ridiculous.

He rubs his fingers together to spread the slickness around evenly and rubs it over Harry’s entrance too; he slowly presses his middle finger inside, hissing at the pressure enveloping him. Harry lets out a pleased little moan and hangs his head off to the side with his eyes closed, trailing his hands all over his body. Louis watches entranced as he skims over his puffed out nipples, pinching and rolling them between the pads of his fingers. Louis mutters a few curses and starts to move his own finger, gently pushing it in and out of Harry’s hole.

“You can add another,” Harry says dreamily. “I’m used to it.”

“Thought you hadn’t had sex recently,” Louis grunts, but he adds his index finger as well, tucking the two inside of Harry who seems to welcome the intrusion; he bites his lip and sucks in a sharp breath, beginning to roll his hips back onto Louis’ hand. 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t do this with myself,” Harry answers. And isn’t that a vision? Lying in his own bed all alone, fucking himself with his slim, dainty fingers. Louis plunges his fingers in faster at the thought, teasing his entrance with a third every time he pulls out. 

Harry looks so pretty on top of him, so lost in his own pleasure that Louis almost can’t stand it. He pulls his fingers out, ignoring Harry’s pout, and turns them over until Louis is on top again. He kisses and licks his way down Harry’s neck, stopping at his nipples to bite and flick his tongue against each one, and then trails his way down his torso. He nibbles at the sensitive skin of his belly, smiling at the pleased little sighs Harry lets slip from his mouth. He places a kiss at the head of Harry’s cock but skips past that too, pushing his legs wide open to kiss the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, but Louis can tell he knows the answer already. He grabs a pillow from near the headboard, gesturing for Harry to lift himself up. He fits the pillow under his lower back and spreads his arse cheeks, licking his lips at the sight of Harry’s entrance, only stretched open a little, shiny with lube. He gives Harry a wicked look and dives right in, licking over his entrance in a wide stroke that has Harry gasping in shock. He’s thankful now that Harry did buy flavored lube; the taste isn’t wonderful by any means, but it’s certainly better than regular lube would have tasted for this impromptu rim-fest. He dips his tongue inside, testing the waters, and pushes deeper as Harry urges him on with sweet cries. He flicks his tongue against his rim and sucks against his skin, obscene sound effects of what they’re doing bouncing across the walls. 

He’s never particularly enjoyed doing this part, rarely does it if he can help it. But it seems like everything with Harry is a welcomed new experience because he can’t get enough of the way Harry writhes and whimpers beneath him. Harry throws his leg over Louis’ shoulder and grabs the back of Louis’ head, pushing him closer to his entrance. He rocks his hips up into Louis’ face like he’s trying to fuck himself on his tongue. Louis lets him take what he needs, flicking his tongue, darting inside and sucking messily in turns until nearly all of Harry’s arse is covered in shiny spit and lube. His chin is dripping and it shouldn’t be hot but it _is_ , taking Harry apart on his tongue like this. 

When Harry’s hips go erratic and Louis knows he’s close to coming--he didn’t even know that was _possible_ \--he pulls away and thrusts his fingers back inside, curling them up to search out his prostate. 

“Fuck me,” Harry says, his voice higher than Louis has ever heard it before. “I want it. Now.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” Louis soothes, getting up onto his knees and grabbing the bottle of lube, spreading it all over his cock. The sickly sweet strawberry scent permeates the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and sex and Harry. Louis wishes he could bottle up the scent and carry it with him forever.

He’s never done this without a condom, not even as a dumb teenager, so the feeling of nothing but _Harry_ enveloping his cock when he presses inside is new and incredible and almost more than he can handle. He pushes in deep, slow, grunting when he’s all the way in, his hips nestled against Harry’s cheeks. All around his cock is _Harry_ stretched wide but still squeezing him impossibly tight. 

Harry blinks up at him with glassy eyes, his mouth dropped open as little squeaky noises are pulled from his throat. He reaches up and tugs on Louis’ neck until he leans down and kisses him. It’s not heated at all, just a solid, comforting press of their lips. 

“You can move,” he whispers against his mouth, biting his lower lip gently before falling back onto his pillow, his hair pooling around his head like a dark halo. Louis nods, pulling out slowly until just the head of his cock is still sheathed inside of him, and then pushes back in deep. He runs his hands down from Harry’s kneecaps to the meat of his thighs, digging his fingers in deep to keep him grounded. 

His first few thrusts are slow and steady, rocking into Harry steadily like they’re on a boat and moving with the waves. Harry’s cries grow louder with every thrust, rising to a feverous pitch once Louis starts to _really_ go for it, thrusting deep and rough on every push. 

He tries to direct himself up, towards where he knows Harry’s weak spot will be, and he must find it because Harry stops making any noise at all; he’s picked up the pillow beneath his head and is trying to muffle the screams leaving his mouth. Louis tuts and pulls the pillow away, tossing it off the bed entirely. He pulls Harry’s legs further down the bed, nearly bending Harry in half as he fucks himself in fast, his stomach brushing against the weeping head of Harry’s cock with every move he makes. 

“None of that,” he says breathlessly. Sweat is beading at his temples; he sees a tiny drip fall to Harry’s collarbone, running down the side of his flushed skin. “I want to hear you.”

“God!” Harry yells, his fists clenching into the sheets on either side of his body. “I’m not--I’m not going to last much longer..”

“Me neither,” Louis replies, already feeling himself lose control, his hips pistoning erratically into Harry’s body. He reaches between them and fists Harry’s cock, pumping him tightly in his hand. 

The bed is slamming against the headboard with every rocking motion they make. Louis sends a silent apology to Harry’s neighbors who have to hear them right now, but he isn’t very sorry. 

Harry comes after a few more strokes of Louis’ hand, long ropes of come shooting up to almost his neck. He squeezes around Louis so tightly that he curses, his own cock throbbing and spilling into Harry’s body. It’s almost euphoric--it _is_ euphoric, being that closely connected to someone like this. He drops his head against Harry’s shoulder, giving a few weak thrusts to ride out the aftershocks, and lets Harry’s legs fall against the bed. 

“That was intense,” he says after a moment, pulling his sensitive cock out with a wince and watching in awe as his own come trickles out of Harry’s hole. He’s never seen that before, tries to fight the urge to reach down and plug him up with his fingers. 

Harry laughs off to his side and brushes sweat-soaked hair away from his face. “Just wondering, was eating me out conducive to baby-making?”

Louis rolls his eyes and digs his finger into Harry’s side. “Can’t help what I do in the heat of the moment. It’s not like you were complaining.”

“Oh no, never,” Harry assures him. “Eat me out as much as you like, Lou. Breakfast, lunch, supper, I won’t complain.”

Louis laughs but it’s cut off when his stomach rumbles loudly in the room. “Speaking of eating, shall we eat the dinner you made then?”

Harry’s nose twitches and he gestures down at himself. “At least help me clean up the mess you made first!”

He winds up fetching a flannel from the bathroom and cleaning a weak-limbed Harry from neck to knees. Harry preens at the attention, stretching his limbs all across the bed languidly like he’s just finished with an especially gratifying workout. Louis’ sore limbs throb in sympathy.

They heat up the dinner Harry had made--some ridiculously delicious pasta dish--and stare at each other from across the table like shy little schoolchildren. Harry finishes first and chooses to play an adventurous game of footie that ends with him bent over the kitchen table for round two.

***

The sex haze doesn’t lessen up for the next week. Whenever Harry’s too sore, Louis takes care of him in other ways, kissing and licking at his body until he’s shivering out another weak orgasm. He feels like they’re in some kind of heat, neither of them daring to mention that sucking each other off and letting their adventurous hands explore won’t lead to a baby. It’s nice, really, both of them lounging nearly naked at all times around the flat with not a care in the world. At the end of the week, after a particularly adventurous shag that had Harry pinned face-first against his bay window for the world to see, Louis heads back to his flat. They kiss sweetly at the door, Louis’ hand gripping Harry’s lower back possessively when one of Harry’s neighbors walks by with a scowl.

And it’s not like it’s that different for them after that. Harry still texts him dumb pictures from work and Louis still laughs at every single one like Harry’s the funniest person in the world. 

It’s just the little things that change. Like Louis nearly getting a hard on at work when his mind drifts to images of fucking Harry on his desk, fucking Harry in the toilet stall, fucking Harry in his car...He’s certainly not complaining, it’s just. A little distracting. 

They spend the night at each other’s houses more often than not. Louis’ bathroom is littered with Harry’s hair products, Harry’s nicked his favorite moisturizer for his own use, and he knows each of their hampers is half filled with each other’s clothing. 

When Harry texts him Friday as he’s leaving work with just a winky face and a peach emoji, a picture coming through a second later of Harry laying in his bed naked with just a sneaky grin on his face, Louis doesn’t even bother stopping at his own flat. He heads straight over to Harry’s and lets himself in with the keys Harry gave him during their first week.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks, loosening his tie and nearly ripping the buttons off of his shirt in his haste to get undressed. Harry turns on his side and rests his head in his hand as he watches Louis disrobe with interest. He smiles dreamily when Louis drops his dress pants.

“You have the nicest cock,” he says absently, running his nails down his thigh and back up. He flicks at his nipple when he makes it back to his chest, the hardened little nub already rosy pink and swollen. His nipples always seem to be in some state of distress. He wants his mouth on them. 

Ridiculously, Louis almost feels jealous of his own dick. “I’m more than an appendage, Harold,” he sniffs, stepping out of his clothing pooled on the floor. 

Harry grins and rolls over onto his stomach, arching his back and pushing his arse into the air. Louis wants to chide him, warn him that his back _aches_ when he contorts it like that, but he knows what he’ll say in response. _That’s what backrubs are for. I love the pain._

“Already opened myself up,” he murmurs, folding his arms and resting his head on top. 

Louis chokes a bit but recovers enough to say, “That’s my favorite part, you know.”

“No it’s not,” Harry answers. “I’ve seen your face when you first push inside of me. I know what you like.”

“Full of yourself,” he shoots back, but he can’t exactly disagree. He crawls onto the bed, hovering over Harry’s body and scanning his eyes down the expanse of his back. He puts all of his weight onto one arm and runs his fingers down his spine, pausing above his arse and rubbing soothing circles into the little valley of his lower back. He moves to the side, gripping one of his little love handles, and then palms at his right cheek. He massages his plush softness, Harry’s breath hitching every time Louis darts his thumb down to tease his entrance. 

“You’re rude,” Harry groans, but his thighs are spreading anyway, his hips rocking into Louis’ hand. Louis finds that his hole slippery with lube as he pushes two fingers inside; they glide in with ease so Louis knows Harry had been telling the truth. Satisfied enough, although a little disappointed he can’t take his time opening him up, Louis eases out and reaches for the lube lying at their side. 

He fucks him slow and unhurried, kissing Harry’s shoulders, his neck, his jaw, tickling the sensitive skin under his ears with little nibbles until Harry’s laughing wetly into his own arms, his hips rocking into the mattress. 

They both come with each other’s names on their lips, quiet but somehow unbearably loud to Louis’ ears. 

They’ve started a tradition of sorts during their week of shagging, a post-coital movie night filled with rom-coms that Louis indulges Harry with. Tonight it’s _Bridget Jones’ Diary_ ; Louis saw the movie in Harry’s collection and couldn’t resist, popping it into the player while Harry busies himself getting snacks in the kitchen. Harry comes in wearing a silky robe tied loosely around his waist and a bowl of popcorn, a beer, and a bottle of water in his hands. “ _Have to get used to the alcohol-less life, don’t I?”_ Harry had told him days earlier. 

He sits down next to Louis on the couch, passing him his beer with a smile. “Thanks babe,” Louis says, pecking him on the lips. He’s fascinated by the light pink blush that ghosts over Harry’s cheeks.

Harry bites his lip and turns away, his eyes widening at the sight of the movie’s title screen. “Yes!” he cheers, clapping his hands together. “You remembered,” he grins.

“That you’ve got a boner for Colin Firth and Hugh Grant? Who could forget?” he jokes. 

It’s just _nice_. Not just the sex, which is more outstanding than Louis ever could have imagined, but just being with his best friend like this, both of them bonded together in their desire to have a baby. He pinches his thigh discreetly in the middle of the movie, almost surprised when he feels the little twinge of pain.

***

“I think it’s time for me to buy a pregnancy test,” Harry announces, his words muffled against Louis’ chest. Louis’ hand stills in Harry’s hair where he’d been untangling his sweaty curls.

“Do you think you’re--do you think it worked?” Louis asks. It’s officially been a month since their first time and they haven’t really slowed down much in their platonic baby-making. “Do you feel like you’re pregnant?”

“Well--no,” Harry answers. He traces little drawings into Louis’ chest aimlessly. “But it’s hard to tell. Until I start barfing up my breakfast, there aren’t many symptoms for me to look out for. ‘s not like I have a period to track.”

“Right,” Louis says, his mind racing at the thought of Harry actually being _pregnant_. He feels excitement stirring in his belly, much different than the kind he’d been feeling just half an hour before. “Do you want me to run to the corner shop and buy you one now?”

Harry glances up at him with wide eyes. “Do _you_ want to?”

In five minutes Louis is out the door, joggers pulled hastily over his legs and sockless feet stuffed into his trainers. He jogs down the block and pulls open the door to the corner shop, making the bells clang loudly against together, startling the poor teenaged clerk who must not have seen a lot of business that night. 

“Pregnancy tests?” Louis asks.

He must look frantic because the boy nods knowingly, pointing to the back of the store. “Been there before, mate. Thankfully m’girlfriend just had food poisoning. Next to the condoms in the back.”

There’s a small selection, mostly off brand stuff that if they were less desperate they shouldn’t trust the results of-- _Womb! There It Is_ , really?--but he grabs a couple of the more sensible-looking ones and heads to the register to pay. 

When he makes it back to the flat, Harry’s pacing anxiously in the kitchen, an empty glass of water clutched in his hands. 

“Drank five of these already,” Harry says with a weak laugh. “Should have to pee any minute now.”

Louis waits outside the bathroom, giving Harry privacy as he uses the tests. Harry opens the door when he’s done and gestures for Louis to come inside, both of them staring down hard at the counter, waiting for a plus sign to appear.

It doesn’t. All of them are negative. 

Harry sucks in a sharp breath, picking up all of the tests and tossing them into the bin. 

“It’s still early--,” Louis starts to say but Harry cuts him off.

“I know. Maybe even too early to tell, really. I just. I really wanted it now.” He breathes in deep and turns, giving Louis a watery smile. “Guess we just have to keep trying don’t we?”

They try again that night, testing out a theory Harry has that new and adventurous positions might encourage conception. Louis isn’t sure reverse cowgirl--cowboy, he corrects--has ever been scientifically proven to help make babies, but he’s not complaining either.

***

Louis is giving a presentation at work when he gets a phone call. He ignores the buzzing in his pocket, sliding his hand inside his trousers and turning it off until he’s done. His mouth turns dry when he checks his mobile later and sees three missed calls from Harry. No voicemails, no texts. He dials him back immediately.

“Louis,” Harry answers after two rings. He sounds breathless, excited, and Louis’ nerves immediately ease. 

“Yeah, babe? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong!” Harry laughs giddily. “Nothing’s wrong at all. Louis, I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

He worries for a second that Harry will get the wrong message after he hangs up and immediately starts gathering his things, but he shakes the thought away. Harry will know, he’s sure, that Louis is racing home that second. It’s been just three weeks since the first test they took and Harry had said he’d wait another month to see again, but he must have gotten impatient. Louis couldn’t be happier that he did. 

Louis breezes right into Harry’s flat not even ten minutes later and immediately gathers up the other boy in his arms, tucking his wet face into his neck. Harry’s shaking with excitement, doing little excited bounces in his arms that have both of them laughing and moving all around the living room.

“Pregnant,” Louis whispers. “A baby, inside your--.” He trails off and pulls away from Harry, staring hard at his belly. It’s no bigger than normal, of course, he still has the pleasant little curve to his belly like he always does, but he touches him anyway, running his palm all over his abdomen. “There’s a baby in here.”

“Smaller than a pea,” Harry laughs. “But it’s there. I’m so--I’m so happy, Lou.” He crushes their lips together in a sweet kiss, crossing his arms behind Louis’ neck as he presses himself against his body. 

Louis clenches his fist in the material of Harry’s shirt, keeping his other hand on Harry’s lower back and eventually lower, gripping his arse in his hand and pulling them together. Harry moans happily against his lips and slips his tongue inside Louis’ mouth, the both of them stumbling towards the sofa. They fall into a heap of tangled limbs, but they manage to get each other’s clothes off somehow, throwing them behind the couch in their haste to get naked. Louis kisses his way down Harry’s body and wastes no time in sucking Harry’s cock, multi-tasking along the way by feeling around the coffee table for the lube he knows is there since they fucked on the floor not two days ago. 

He licks and sucks at the head of Harry’s cock while the other boy raises his arms above his head to grip the armrest, whimpering when one of Louis’ slippery fingers breaches his hole. Louis opens him up quick but as gently as he can, ignoring Harry’s mumbled protests that he’s ready, really he is. He knows what’s best for his boy. He gives one last, thorough suck to Harry’s cock and lets go, slicking himself up quickly. 

When he pushes inside he watches Harry’s face, entranced by the look of pure pleasure on his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth has fallen wide open, little gasps and whines bouncing off the walls. 

He wants to go slow, to prolong this moment forever and celebrate with the tenderness he feels in his heart, but he just _can’t_. Everything in his body, everything he sees in Harry’s body, tells him to go hard, hitching Harry’s legs around his waist and pistoning inside him in tune to the pounding of his heart. He feels desperate, like if he doesn’t get enough of Harry right then and there he’ll die. 

It comes as a shock to both of them when without any warning, Harry’s entire body tenses, his cock twitching as he releases streams of come onto his chest. Louis hadn’t even touched him and Harry’s arms have been lifted above his head the entire time; he came _untouched_ from Louis’ cock. That thought alone sends Louis speeding towards his own, giving a few jerky thrusts into Harry’s weak body before he comes too, collapsing on top of him in a sticky mess.

He gets up after they catch their breath and fetches a flannel for Harry, wiping him clean and tossing the rag onto the floor. He can see Harry about to complain, but he must be too tired so he just shakes his head at him and rolls his eyes. 

“So that probably wasn’t necessary anymore,” Louis ventures to say, pulling a blanket off the other chair to cover the two of them.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks.

“I mean you’re pregnant now. I guess the having-sex-every-other-day thing isn’t really a concern anymore.”

Harry frowns and nods his head. “I guess you’re right.” He pauses for a moment and then grins. “Kind of a shame. I’m not sure that our friendship is strong enough to survive without sex.” 

Louis answers without skipping a beat, “Honestly. Don’t know how we managed before this.”

“It’ll be a struggle,” Harry nods. “But I’m sure we’ll persevere.”

Smiling, Louis tugs Harry in close for a hug, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and resting his head atop Harry’s.

The thing is, Louis isn’t emotionally stunted; he’s very cognizant of the fact that in the past few months he’s started to _feel_ something for Harry. It’s not much of a bother, he’s sure that having ridiculous amounts of sex with the same person for weeks on end would birth feelings for a lot of people, probably even Harry. But he’s sure that after some distance...sexually, those feelings will fade into what they used to be. That’s what he hopes at least. Because at the end of the day, he’s happier cuddling Harry on this couch than he’s ever felt with anyone in the past. 

It should be scary. It’s really not.

***

“There’s something we probably should have discussed before we started this,” Louis says. They’re meeting in a little cafe right in the middle of their two workplaces for a late lunch. The sun shines through the window onto Harry who looks radiant in peach-colored scrubs, his long hair tied into a bun. Little tendrils have started falling loose over the course of the day and Harry keeps tucking them behind his ears like a nervous habit. It’s quite cute.

“What’s that?” Harry mumbles around his spoon as he gazes at Louis expectedly.

“Well, like. When we have the baby...are we still going to live apart, or are we moving in temporarily, or--.”

“Oh,” Harry says. He looks surprised. “I guess I assumed that one of us would move in, unless you don’t want that. I’m sorry, I really should’ve asked.”

“No, it’s fine,” Louis rushes to reassure him. “It’s still early on, we have a lot of decisions to make. Our flats are about the same size but my lease is up in a month. I’m not terribly attached to that shithole so I don’t mind moving.”

“Are you sure?” Harry looks somewhat relieved, no doubt already beginning to mourn the little Pinterest projects that decorate his house. “I’ve got two spare rooms. I was using one to develop my photographs, but I can live without that.”

“You love that room,” Louis protests. “No, I can sleep on the couch and the other room can be the nursery.”

“You’re not living in my flat and sleeping on my couch like you’re a temporary guest.” Harry sounds legitimately outraged, like he can’t believe Louis would suggest he’d do such a thing. 

“I could always set up an air mattress I guess.”

Harry gives him an eyeroll worthy of...well. Worthy of Louis. “Sleep in my bedroom. I’ve got a king-sized mattress you idiot.”

Louis smirks. “If you wanted me back in your bed you just had to ask, darling…”

Harry kicks him under the table right in his shin. “ _Idiot_ ,” he repeats. “So you’ll move in! My lease is up next year and I think I need a bigger place so I’m not sure if we should go all out on a nursery yet. Thoughts?”

“That’s smart. If we’re living together we can afford a bigger place. Always thought we’d be great roommates, Styles,” Louis grins. “You can do all of the cooking.”

“As if!” Harry squawks. “Don’t pull that on me. I’m not fooled by your ‘poor me, I only eat Coco Pops’ routine. You can cook, you just don’t want to.”

“We’ll see about that when you get food poisoning,” Louis mutters darkly. “And don’t lie, I know you love to cook. You beg everyone to come over for Sunday roasts because you love being a mother hen.”

Harry won’t deign to respond to that and switches topics instead. “I’ve also been thinking about registering for parenting classes, if you’re interested.”

“Parenting classes?” Louis questions. “I have six siblings, Haz. You minored in early childhood care in uni.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Harry replies. “But they’re free at the community center and I really want to be prepared for this.”

Louis immediately softens. “Of course I’ll join you. I can brush up on my diaper skills. Any other things we should discuss while we’re at it? When are we telling our families and friends?” He’s been bursting at the seams to spill the beans to his mother, but he wanted to wait for Harry’s approval first. From what he’s heard, Harry’s mum and sister knew of their plans but haven’t heard the results of the pregnancy test he took the week earlier, or the test Harry took the next day at Harry’s doctor’s office that confirmed it. 

“The doctor says I’m at about five or six weeks pregnant. To be on the safe side we should wait until ten or eleven to start to tell people,” Harry replies, frowning. “I hate that. I want to tell everyone.”

“Me too, babe. I think Niall’s getting suspicious anyway. He keeps texting me that detective emoji in every conversation we have.”

Harry bursts out laughing at that, hand coming to rest naturally on his belly. “Keep ignoring him. It’ll be a nice surprise for everyone. Maybe we should have a little get together at my flat, tell them we’re celebrating you moving in. I’ll bring out a cake that says something about having a baby and I’ll give everyone copies of the sonogram and little party favors and--.”

“Harry.” The other boy’s eyes have gone hazy, like he’s a million miles away in his party-planning daze. Harry blinks and comes back down to the real world, giving Louis a sheepish grin. “That sounds great, although I’m pretty sure everyone’s going to think we’re together if we tell them I’m just moving in randomly.”

“Because they’re not going to think that when we announce we’re having a baby?” Harry asks drily. 

“Touché. Right, well then you can plan our little party. I’ve got to start finding boxes and pack up my stuff. Think I’m going to have to rent a storage unit actually. Bugger.”

“Sorry,” Harry winces. “I can help you pack!”

“You’re not doing any heavy lifting pal.”

“I’m hardly even pregnant!” Harry protests.

“That’s not what my seed growing inside of you says,” Louis shoots back. He looks off to the side and sees a granny staring at them in disdain. “Nosy old bat,” he mutters to himself.

“Your _seed_ growing inside of me is hungry for a muffin. Go get me one please,” Harry orders primly.

“Are you even far enough along for cravings?”

Harry cuts his eyes at him and takes a pointed sip of his tea, choosing to ignore the accusation. 

Louis gets him a muffin.

***

Moving in is a slow process, made even slower by Louis’ refusal to pack “properly” as Harry says. Against his wishes, Harry does come over to help after work, kneeling on Louis’ floor in his scrubs and looking around Louis’ flat with wide eyes. “This is going to be a lot of work,” he says.

A lot of his stuff gets packed into boxes designated for storage. Try as he might, he can’t justify cluttering Harry’s bedroom with old football trophies and paraphernalia. Even when Harry kindly offers to clear off one of the shelves in his bedroom Louis declines. He feels like he’s moving into a new stage of his life, a more mature one that’s separate from his early twenties lifestyle. Harry even clears a little nook in his flat for a makeshift office so that Louis can do some of his work from home. 

By the end of the month Louis’ bed is sold and his extra belongings are tucked into storage; Harry even borrows some of his storage space to put away some of his extra things so Louis can have more room in his flat. It really feels like they’re making a home together, a little space they can both be comfortable in. Louis starts coming home at night to _their_ flat, recording shows on the telly on _their_ cable box, sleeping in _their_ bed.

One night finds Louis in the kitchen cooking alone. Harry’s energy has taken a hit since he became pregnant, and some nights he comes home too tired to do much more than plop on the sofa and take a nap. Louis planned ahead of time and bought some things at the shop, getting home before Harry to cook dinner. 

Harry comes home and kicks his shoes off, calling Louis a greeting before heading to the living room. Louis hears him fall onto the couch with an exhausted moan and smiles, turning back to the oven. He tries to be as quiet as possible, has already mashed the potatoes, but Harry must smell something because he hears a tell-tale patter of feet heading towards him.

“Are you cooking?” Harry asks suspiciously.

“You said it yourself,” Louis says. “I _can_ cook, I just choose not to more often than not. You’ve been tired lately so I thought I’d make us supper.”

“What are you making?” Harry pads over to him and stands at his side, peering at the pan in front of Louis.

“Chicken, stuffed with mozzarella, wrapped in parma ham with a side of homemade mash. Even made you a little salad,” he answers proudly. 

“And you put more than croutons and salad dressing in it,” Harry observes in awe. “This is amazing.” He looks at Louis with watery eyes and wraps him in a hug, sniffling a little into his shoulder.

“Oh babe, those pregnancy hormones are really hitting you aren’t they?” 

“Yeah,” Harry whimpers. “I’m so happy that it’s making me sad. But I’m not sad! I’m just so happy.”

“Makes sense.” It doesn’t really, but Louis isn’t going to contradict him at a time like this. “How about you go rest for a bit or wash up, and I’ll call you in when it’s done. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

“Thank you,” Harry tells him, finally pulling away from the hug to kiss his cheek. “I’m so glad I decided to have a baby with you. Even though your socks stink up the laundry basket and you always leave the floor wet after every shower.”

“I’m flattered with compliments here,” Louis replies drily, grabbing a nearby dishtowel and smacking it against Harry’s arse. “Get out of here.”

Harry laughs and runs away, leaving Louis alone with the food. He sneaks another peek at the recipe on his phone and places the chicken in the oven. While he waits he clears the dirty dishes from the counter and loads the dishwasher, busying himself with tiny chores that Harry usually does, being the self-proclaimed “domestic one” of the two of them. But tonight is a night to pamper his best friend, the father of his baby, and he’s going to do it right.

He walks throughout the living room, picking up little things he can throw in the wash and rearranging the pillows and blankets on the sofa. He starts up the movie he picked out for that evening-- _Legally Blonde_ , sigh--so it’s ready for them later and then sets the table. By the time he’s finished busying himself with little chores (he doesn’t understand how Harry gets enjoyment out of this) the chicken is almost ready, along with the potatoes. He brings the food to the table and makes up two plates, calling out for Harry to tell him it’s time to eat. 

A few minutes go by without any sign of him. Louis glances into the bedroom curiously, letting out a disbelieving snort when he sees Harry curled up on the bed with his scrubs still on. Evidently he hadn’t even made it to the shower. He tiptoes over to the bed and crawls in beside Harry, running his hands through his curls. Harry sighs in his sleep, pushing his head into Louis’ hand because apparently he’s a kitten even in his dreams. Louis almost doesn’t have the heart to wake him, the little snuffles he makes while he dozes too cute to disturb, but he knows he needs to eat. 

“Harry,” he whispers against his ear, rubbing his belly in soothing circles. “C’mon little one, it’s time for supper.”

Harry blinks his eyes open sleepily, turning and looking at Louis over his shoulder with a sheepish smile and pink cheeks. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.” He sniffles a little and rolls onto his other side, burrowing his head into Louis’ shoulder. “Give me a minute to wake up.”

“Take all the time you need,” Louis offers. “That’s what microwaves are for.”

“Don’t want to microwave something you worked hard on,” Harry murmurs. “That would be rude.”

“And I woke you up from a desperately needed nap so I guess we’re even,” he replies, still playing with Harry’s hair. Harry gets up after a few more moments, stretching languidly before following Louis into the kitchen. 

“Smells good,” he says, sitting in the chair Louis pulls back for him. It’s not perfect, the chicken a little dry and the potatoes a little lumpy, but Harry scarfs it up just the same. He doesn’t even say anything when Louis brings out a sickeningly sweet store bought cake for dessert, just smiles and takes the piece with all of the frosted flowers on it.

He sends a relaxed Harry off to bed early, joining him a little while later after washing up. He finds that he’s never in his life slept better than he does that night.

***

Louis officially moves out of his flat at the ten-and-half week mark; they both agree to hold the housewarming/baby announcement party later in the week to celebrate.

They keep it small, just their parents, Gemma, Niall and Liam. Jay brings Ernest and Doris as well and Harry nearly tramples Louis in his eagerness to hold Doris the second Jay walks in. His eyes are sparkling as he sits on the floor and immediately launches into a game of peek-a-boo with her that results in little toddler shrieks of laughter bouncing off the walls. Louis watches them from the doorway while he holds a sleeping Ernest, heart feeling impossibly light at the sight of the two of them. 

“It worked didn’t it?” Jay asks from his side a moment later. 

Louis spins and looks at her in confusion, gaping when he sees the knowing look on her face. “How did you--.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, love,” she laughs. “He’s glowing. You are too. I’m going to be a grandmother.”

“Shh, shh,” he whispers as she grows a little weepy, wiping tears from her eyes with shaky fingers. “Harry wants this to be a big surprise production, so don’t let him know that you know.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she answers. “I’ll be crying just the same.” Louis hugs her with the arm that isn’t holding Ernest, leading her away from Harry’s line of vision so he doesn’t see her crying. “How far along?” she asks once she’s calmed down. 

“Almost eleven weeks. Figured it was safe to tell everyone now,” he shrugs.

“Smart boys. You know if you need any advice or help with anything I’ll be right there for you,” she offers.

“I know, thank you Mum. We’re going to take a parenting class too.” He scratches at the back of his neck sheepishly. Classes start in a couple weeks but Harry’s been studying in advance. They had to hide the stack of baby books they’ve acquired in their room so no one sees. 

“Look at you,” Jay coos. “My baby is all grown up, making other babies and taking parenting classes.” She looks like she’s about to get weepy again so he dashes away as soon as he hears a knock on the door. 

Everyone else seems to have arrived at the same time, five smiling faces marching into the flat when he lets them in. Anne kisses him on the cheek and Robin gives him a solid handshake while Gemma gives him an affectionate punch in the shoulder. Jay comes into the room to take Doris so Harry can clamber to his feet and hug his family. 

And then it all happens rather quickly.

Harry’s eyes grow wide and panicky like he’s about to do something he shouldn’t do but can’t stop himself from doing; with everyone gathered in the living room he blurts out, “I’m pregnant. There’s a baby in me. Louis’ baby. We’re having a baby.”

Silence falls over the room. Then everyone erupts.

“It worked!” Anne yells, growing just as weepy as Jay had been earlier. She sweeps Harry into a hug, mumbling about being a grandmother while Harry looks shocked at what he’s just done. Louis is caught a bit off guard too, if he’s honest, and he bears the brunt of Niall and Liam’s reactions.

“What in the _fuck_ ,” Niall curses. “I didn’t even know you were dating you fucking--.”

“We’re not dating,” Louis hastens to say. “It was like, an agreement.”

“Did you donate your sperm or something?” Liam asks. Both of them look confused, which he should have expected really, considering he’s never clued them in on any of this. Oops.

“I was going to,” he starts. “But that didn’t really work out. So we, uh, did it the old-fashioned way.” They both stare at him until he feels himself shrinking under their eyes. 

“So you were banging,” Niall starts. 

“But you’re not together,” Liam finishes. 

“Right. That’s about the gist of it.” 

Niall still looks a little outraged, Liam a bit confused, but both of them shrug after a moment and seem to accept it. “Which of us is the godfather?” Niall asks, using the pseudo-Italian accent he likes to break out when he’s drunk at parties. 

“I think I’m going to go over there now,” Louis hedges, walking over to where Harry is surrounded by family. 

Gemma walks over to him with a smirk on her face that he knows means trouble. “You knocked up my baby brother.”

“He’s 28,” Louis protests. He’s always been a bit scared of Gemma and could never quite tell how she really felt about him. She’s almost Harry’s polar opposite, sharp and cutting while Harry is sweet and gentle. He doesn’t _dislike_ her, she’s just. Scary. 

“Well if he was going to have a baby with anyone I’m glad it’s you. At least I know you’ll take care of him.” She looks almost kind for a moment before her eyes glint dangerously. “If you break his heart I swear--.”

“There are no hearts to break!” he argues. “We’re not together like that. We’re just best friends having a baby.”

“Which is a scenario that always ends well,” she replies dryly. “I’m just saying, you be good to him okay?”

 

“When am I not?” he questions.

Gemma considers that for a moment and grins. “Like I said, I’m glad he chose you.”

Anne gives him a tight hug as she leaves that nearly makes him tear up; she whispers in his ear, thanking him for making her baby’s dreams come true and Louis nods into her sweater, hugging her back even tighter. The rest of their guests leave and then they’re left to clean up the flat. Louis ties up the trash bag and is about to drop it down the chute in the corridor, but he can’t resist teasing a sheepish Harry first.

“I can’t believe you spilled the beans like that. You’d made a cake and everything!” 

“It slipped!” Harry whines. “I was looking at my mum’s face and I panicked. I’m just glad everyone knows now.”

“Have you posted on Instagram yet?” Louis asks. 

“No. Should I?” Harry pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through the dozens of pictures he took during the night. 

“It’s a good way to tell everyone else. We’ll get more baby shower gifts then.”

“Louis!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking.”

***

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Louis’ eyes dart around the classroom, taking in the sight of all of the other expectant parents. They seem decent enough; there’s a cute lesbian couple across the room from him who are so excited they’re _glowing_ , but then there’s also a straight couple next to them, the overly-muscled father staring at them in distaste. Louis gives him a covert middle finger disguised as a nose scratch and turns his attention back to Harry.

“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?” Harry murmurs, distracted by the parenting books he has set out on the desk in front of him. Some of the pages are dog-eared and some have post-it notes since Harry has been studying almost every night. Louis would make fun of him, but he finds it rather endearing.

“I don’t know,” Louis admits. “I just don’t think we need it. Plenty of parents do well without taking a bloody class beforehand.”

“But it won’t hurt,” Harry trills. “Listen, we’re not being graded. There are no exams or essays or anything _boring_. I think you can survive for a few months.”

“Months?!” Louis gapes at Harry.

“Once a week for eight weeks,” he answers. “Today’s lesson is on feeding our baby.”

“Warm up the formula, put it in a bottle, feed the baby. Sorted.” Louis doesn’t see why anyone needs a class to know this.

“I’m breastfeeding, pal,” Harry replies breezily. “It’ll save us money on formula and it’s healthy.”

“Oh.” Louis glances down at Harry’s chest. He shouldn’t be surprised. 

A few minutes before the class is set to start, a stern-looking woman with greying hair walks into the room and drops a briefcase onto the desk at the front. She surveys the class like she’s taking roll, making Louis realize she’s the instructor.

“She looks like McGonagall,” Louis whispers.

“Stop it!” Harry slaps Louis on his arm and shushes him, turning his attention back to the front.

The woman clears her throat right at the turn of the hour and commands everyone’s attention. “Hello everyone. My name is Nancy and I’m your guide for the next eight weeks. I’ve taught this class for over fifteen years so I like to think I know just about everything there is to know about pregnancy and parenting, so if you ever have any questions feel free to contact me after hours. I’ll give everyone my number and e-mail before class ends. I’m here to help you all become the best first-time parents you can be.”

She smiles then, a warm one that makes her look a lot less scary than she had before. Louis thinks he might like her after all. 

Breastfeeding, as it turns out, is more complex than he imagined. Apparently some parents can’t breastfeed because it’s too painful for them; he doesn’t imagine that’ll be a problem for Harry. He tries not to let his thoughts wander, but he does spend a few too many minutes thinking about the look on Harry’s face when Louis would mouth over his sensitive nipples, sucking and licking and biting and-- _shit_. He flushes guiltily, hoping no one realizes he’s a bloody pervert. 

He can’t lie and say he doesn’t learn anything from the class. By week three he and Nancy are fast friends and Harry just grins smugly whenever Louis raises his hand to answer a question. The other soon-to-be parents don’t seem to like them much, probably because the two of them have basically taken over the class. Louis doesn’t really give a damn because he’s too proud of them.

“We’re going to be kickass parents,” he whispers during one of their exercises. This week’s lesson is an entire hour devoted to changing diapers. He’s got it down to less than thirty seconds; he has Harry stand at the side and time him on his phone, cheering him along like a little pregnant cheerleader. Harry grins at him, his hand resting on the tiny baby bump that’s started to form. It’s his turn now though, and he turns and gives Louis a little smile. 

“Kickass, huh? Didn’t know this was a competition.”

“Please,” Louis scoffs. “I know you love this just as much as I do. I saw your face after I beat Frank over here last week during the bottle competition.” He gestures with his thumb back at the muscled guy he flipped off the first week. 

“Yeah, well Frank is a prick,” Harry mutters, cinching the diaper tightly over the fake baby they’re using with the adhesive strip. 

“Face it, babes, we were born for this.” Harry blushes and knocks his shoulder against Louis’, but he doesn’t disagree. 

He walks into week four’s lesson with Harry prepared to do battle with Frank in whatever exercise they’re doing this week. However, he nearly chokes when he looks at the dry erase board and sees “STRENGTHENING YOUR BOND: HOW TO IMPROVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP DURING PREGNANCY.”

“Nancy doesn’t know that we’re not, like, _together_ like that, does she?” Louis asks.

Harry frowns and shrugs his shoulders. “Guess it never came up. Should we tell her?”

“No, no. We’ll do the lesson anyway. Strengthen our friendship or summat, right?”

Nancy claps her hands together to catch everyone’s attention before starting her brief lecture. “It’s an open secret that pregnancy can be one of the most stressful moments in a young couple’s relationship. There are hormones flying around, medical and financial concerns, and a lot of big changes in store for your relationship. It may seem taboo, but there are lots of couples whose relationship cannot handle the stress of pregnancy. None of you want that, do you?” The class choruses their agreement while Harry and Louis smirk at each other. 

“We’re going to have multiple exercises today to test and strengthen the communication in your relationship. First we’re going to play a kind of _Newlywed Game_ to lighten things up and have some fun. You’ll see there are dry erase boards in front of you. I’m going to ask you to take turns answering some fun questions about your partner. Those of you who are pregnant, I’d like you to answer first.”

Harry grabs his dry erase board and marker and turns to the side so Louis can’t see what he writes. Louis rolls his eyes, listening for the first question.

“If your partner could choose one celebrity they admire to have dinner with them, who would that be?”

Louis glances at Harry who’s already scribbling away at the board. He almost scoffs at the question, because _hello_ , Harry’s answer is clear. He writes _Beyoncé_ on the board. 

They get the point. And another when Harry correctly answers Louis’ choice, Becks. Of course. 

After five questions they have nine points, the only mistake happening when Harry is asked what item of Louis’ he wishes he could throw away and answers _nothing_. Louis would be touched if he wasn’t mourning the loss of that point. Regardless, their nearest competitors are Frank and his wife Courtney who have six points. Louis feels a bit smug that five of those points are from Courtney since Frank is a sodding idiot.

They win the game handedly after wagering all of their points in the lightning round on a ridiculously easy question-- _what did your partner want to be growing up?_ He distinctly remembers Harry telling him years ago that he wanted to be a lawyer because Elle Woods was his hero, and Harry knew better than to answer anything other than a football player. 

“Look at us go,” Louis observes, glancing around at the rest of the couples who are receiving a lecture from Nancy about listening to your partner. “Pathetic, the lot of ‘em.”

“Louis,” Harry laughs and shakes his head. “The others aren’t inferior just because they don’t know each other like we do. We’ve been best friends for years, I think that’s to be expected.” Louis stares at him blankly until he breaks. “Okay fine, we’re kicking everyone’s asses and we’re the best.” 

“There’s a lad,” Louis grins, patting Harry on the back.

Nancy continues her lesson after that, stressing the importance of communication in a relationship and an equal division of roles for each parent. Louis tunes out a bit then honestly because he and Harry have already been over this; both of them are taking a paternity leave of absence at their job, although Harry’s will be longer since he wants to stay at home for at least the first year. Anne and Robin are set to move closer to the both of them within the year and handle any babysitting duties after that which Louis is endlessly grateful for. They’ve already agreed to alternate nighttime feedings and changings and basically split all of the duties down the middle to the best of their ability. He knows it won’t be a walk in the park, but he also knows that the two of them are more eager to be parents than any of the sad sacks they’re currently in the room with. He tunes back in when Nancy starts to propose a new exercise.

“Next we’re going to spice things up a bit,” she says with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Push your inhibitions to the side because we’re talking about _sex_.”

The class murmurs excitedly while Harry and Louis are left blinking in surprise, casting embarrassed glances at each other.

“Sex during pregnancy can be incredible,” Nancy starts. “Hormones are constantly changing and parts of your partner's bodies are becoming more sensitive. Some people experience a massive increase in their libido during the later months. But when their needs aren’t met, those ever-changing hormones might make your partner confused and irritable. So, today’s lesson--communication. I want you all to turn to your partner and tell each other frankly what you like and expect sexually in the coming weeks.”

“Oh my God,” Louis hears Harry whisper. He turns in his chair and laughs at the flush that’s spread across his face.

“Well,” Louis says. “It’s not like we don’t have the experience to talk about this. I can start if you’d like.” Harry nods, looking relieved. “Okay so...when we were having sex I, uh, enjoyed eating you out. You’re really responsive so that was...a turn-on.”

Harry lets out a long, strangled breath and squeaks, “Okay! Um, my turn I guess. I really liked it when your stubble was a little longer and you’d, like, rub it on my thighs. The girls at work always whistled at the way I’d be walking in my scrubs the next day.”

“Good to know,” Louis chokes out. His mind races with flashbacks to his and Harry’s trysts; he’s pretty sure he can hear his neglected cock whining in his pants. “I liked how vocal you were and how badly your neighbors hate us now after that one weekend when you screamed so loud I thought the police might come.”

“I still can’t look Ms. Abernathy in the eyes,” Harry replies. “I liked it when you got a little rough.” He says it quick, almost like he hopes Louis won’t hear, but.

“Rough how?” he asks, genuinely curious. He’s always thought of himself as a romantic lover, so it comes as a surprise. 

“Well you weren’t super rough, you were always sweet with me. But like, that one time we got really into it and you slapped my arse a bit? I think I really wanted more of that. And then when you bit my neck really hard and the love bite didn’t go away for a week and when you sucked on my nipples so hard I couldn’t wear a shirt the next day because they were too sensitive and when you gripped my hips so hard you left bruises and--.” He cuts himself off and slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyes blown wide as he stares at Louis in shock. Louis notices belatedly that the classroom has grown quiet; he glances to the side and sees Frank glaring at them while Courtney gapes at Harry.

“Right,” Louis answers. “Think we aced this exercise, am I right?” Louis gloats for the rest of the evening, much to Harry’s chagrin.

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry announces over dinner, pushing broccoli around his plate as he chews on the inside of his cheek. 

“About how amazing I am in the sack?” Louis jokes. 

“Shut up,” Harry shoots back and rolls his eyes. “I’m never living this down.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis laughs. “Do go on, pet.”

“I was _thinking_ about something because of today’s lesson. About communication and all that, relationships too. And I know we’re coparenting and cohabitating, but I just want you to know that you--you’re allowed to meet other people and stuff.”

Louis blinks at him and swallows his food, not quite getting his point. “I meet new people everyday, Hazza.”

“No, I mean--I mean _meeting_ people. Like dating. I don’t want you to limit yourself because of our situation. I don’t want you to feel trapped living here with me if you find someone you really like.”

Louis isn’t sure what to say. He genuinely hasn’t given it much thought--doesn’t even want to if he’s honest.

“I don’t think...I don’t think that’s ever going to be a concern for me, Harry. Family is my priority and you know that.”

“No, I know,” Harry answers quickly. “I know you’d never just drop us. I just want you to know that you’re...allowed. To mingle”

“Noted,” Louis replies uneasily. He’s not sure how to tell Harry he doesn’t want to be with anyone but him without it sounding like he thinks they’re in a relationship. Because they’re _not_ , they’re just best friends and that’s enough. But that doesn’t mean he wants to find someone else in the meantime, either. He has a family now. That’s all he needs. “I guess...likewise. Yeah, likewise. Don’t feel awkward chatting up other blokes.” He has to force the words out of his mouth and ignore the bitter taste they seem to leave on his tongue. Harry can do that. He’s _allowed_. 

Harry glances pointedly at his tiny stomach and raises an eyebrow. “I’m not out to score right now, pal.”

Louis laughs and shrugs. “You sure you’re not going to be out in the clubs in five months, waddling around with some stud?”

“Positive,” Harry says, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “As incredibly appealing as that sounds.”

“Good. I mean, it’s good that we had this discussion. And we’re on the same page.”

“Communication,” Harry adds wisely. He stands and collects their plates, leaving them in the sink in a very un-Harry-like fashion. He drops himself heavily on the couch and sighs, giving Louis a coy smile. “And now I’m communicating to you that I would like a foot rub, please.”

“Starting to think that’s all you want me around for,” Louis huffs, but really he doesn’t mind. He’ll rub Harry’s bony feet anytime he asks.

***

“Why am I here again?” Niall asks for the tenth time in the past hour. Louis ignores him and walks ahead to an aisle filled with pillows until Niall grunts to catch his attention again. He’s been grumpy since Louis picked him up and, frankly, he’s a little tired of it. Temperamental little prick.

“I heard you,” Louis snips. “We haven’t hung out in ages and I needed to go shopping.”

“Pillow shopping?” Niall responds dubiously. “I do all of my shopping online, Louis, this isn’t exactly quality bro time to me. I could be sleeping off a hangover right now instead.”

Louis cricks his neck and looks around the aisle in a panic. “Harry isn’t due to give birth for another five months, but I could swear that I hear a baby crying. A tiny, Irish, annoying arsehole of a baby with a useless knee and fake hair--.”

“Fuck you,” Niall laughs. “Why do you need pillows?”

“I don’t need one. Harry does. His back is bad enough as is, so I want to buy him a body pillow for later on in the pregnancy.” He catches sight of what he wants at the very end of the aisle and snatches it up with a triumphant cheer. “This is what I saw on the internet!”

“Why didn’t you buy it on the internet then?”

“Because shipping was ten quid, Ni. We have to start being careful about these things, you know.”

“ _You_ have to start being careful,” Niall corrects. “I don’t have to do anything because I’m still single as a pringle.”

“I’m still single too,” Louis notes absently, checking the pillow out. It’s a huge body pillow shaped like a comfy pool noodle that’s designed for later in the pregnancy when Harry will have issues laying on his side at night. It bends at the sides like a staple, one end for his head, the other looping between his legs and under his bump. Perfect.

“Still not understanding that one either,” Niall argues.

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, narrowing his eyes at Niall who looks irritated. Well, as irritated as Niall can look, which mostly means he looks like he’s dead inside.

“I don’t understand how you can have a baby together yet not actually _be_ together. Everyone always thought you two would end up married with kids but you’ve skipped an entire step,” he complains.

“What do you mean by everyone?” Louis shoves the pillow unsuccessfully into his small shopping basket, his heart thumping erratically in his chest.

“I mean everyone. Me, Liam, Olly, me cousin, Da, Barbara at the bakery, your mum, Harry’s mum, Gemma, your gran--.”

“You don’t even speak to my nan!” Louis cuts in to add. 

“But I’m sure she thinks the same as the rest of us,” Niall shrugs. He comes up beside Louis and throws his arm behind his shoulders, walking with him to the front of the store. “You had a baby with your soulmate.”

“Harry isn’t--okay, yes. Soulmate, best mate, same thing.”

“That’s what all the poor saps who are in love with their best friend say. I just don’t get how you’re not going to try and turn this into more.” 

“Who says I want more?” Louis argues.

“Everyone,” Niall repeats. 

Louis glares at him and shrugs his arm off, walking away from the check-out towards a different aisle. Niall groans behind him but follows along to the baby section without further protest.

It’s not that Louis hasn’t thought about it; ever since the conversation they had after their last meeting, it’s been on his mind more than he cares to admit. It must be hormones making his brain all fuzzy, some sort of side effect of being in close cohabitation with someone you’ve knocked up. Or a result of all the sex they’d been having that makes him confuse lust for something deeper. He feels affection, sure, but it’s the same sort of affection he’s been feeling for years and that’s not--it _can’t_ be the kind of feelings Niall and apparently everyone else thinks they are. They’re just two best mates having a baby. Simple.

“Did I piss you off?” Niall pipes up. He sounds a little too delighted at the prospect. Louis flips him the bird and picks up a three pack of bottles covered in cartoon kittens. He tucks them into his basket with a smile, thinking that Harry will love them.

***

Harry’s next doctor’s appointment is a Big One. Louis finds himself shooting worried glances at the other man every few seconds as he drives them over. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s nearly bleeding; Louis reaches over at a stop light and gently tugs his lip free. Harry gives him a weak smile and starts shaking his knee instead, tapping his fingers his thigh in rhythm to the music he has turned down low.

“There’s nothing to worry about, babe,” Louis assures him.

Harry smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “That’s what we’re going to find out, aren’t we? And I’m having a sonogram, so…” he trails off looking troubled. He waits a moment and then blurts out, “Can we find out the sex? I know ultimately it doesn’t matter--.”

“Harry.”

“--and who knows maybe our baby will grow up and realize they’re a different gender and that’s totally fine--.”

“Harry.” 

“--and totally great but I still really want to know--.”

“Hazza.”

“--but you might want to wait and I don’t want to keep it a secret if I find out on my own--.”

“Hazza!” Louis yells, startling Harry from his rambling.

“What? Sorry.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Louis laughs. “If you want to know, then I want to know.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks. “It seems so silly. It’s not like we’re going to base the nursery or their wardrobe off of what sex they are, because we’re going with the entire rainbow spectrum regardless, but I just...really want to know.”

“I think you’re overthinking this a bit, honestly,” Louis murmurs, turning into the doctor’s parking lot. They’ve decided to just go to Harry’s practice out of convenience and comfort for the rest of his pregnancy, so it’s a familiar sight that Louis hopes will calm Harry’s nerves. “It’s normal to want to know. Stop stressing. It’s not good for the baby,” he adds with a wink. 

Harry lets out a deep, shaky breath and nods in agreement. Louis jumps out of the car and jets to Harry’s side in a flash, helping him climb out. Harry mumbles something about not being _that_ pregnant, but Louis sees his cheeks pinken before he ducks his head down. 

All of the nurses and receptionists greet them with cheers when they enter the office, crowding around Harry to feel his growing bump even though they saw him just the day before. Louis watches from the side as he’s oohed and aahed over, lips twitching at the pleased glow Harry exudes from the center of the little crowd. He heads over to one of the girls who stayed behind at the desk and quickly checks them in in the meantime.

The others disperse eventually, giving Louis secretive smiles as they pass by that he isn’t quite sure how to read. Harry’s weighed (he’s gained almost half a stone in the past few months but he doesn’t pout) and they’re led down the end of the hall to a big room with a monitor, some fancy equipment, and the exam table. Harry hops up on the crinkly paper gracefully and kicks his legs back and forth like a little kid. Louis grabs one of the chairs and wheels himself over right as the doctor comes in. It’s someone new since Harry had previously just been seeing his GP, and he doesn’t recognize him. He’s older, probably in his forties, with a ridiculously handsome face that makes up for his receding hairline. 

“Mr. Styles!” he greets with a grin. Louis’ jaw nearly drops to the floor at the sound of his voice. It’s more appropriate for a phone sex line, not a doctor’s office. He huffs a little and looks at Harry who has _stars_ in his eyes. Louis crosses his arms against his chest. 

“Don’t call me that,” Harry laughs. “Makes me sound old. Lou, this is Dr. Law. He started here just a few months ago.”

“Hi,” Louis says, unfolding his arms and reaching over the shake the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Dr. Law replies, already flicking through Harry’s folder. Louis isn’t sure he’s a fan. Too bloody handsome to be trusted. “Officially twenty weeks along now, are you?”

“Yes,” Harry answers proudly, his hand drifting unconsciously to his bump. 

“Any problems so far?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve had heartburn but Lou has cut that down by changing our diet a little.” Louis pats himself on the back for that one. As Harry has gotten further along, Louis’s almost completely taken over cooking dinner for the two of them, avoiding anything with citrus or tomatoes. It’s been rough without pasta, but a heartburn-free Harry is worth it. “Besides that everything has been great. I’ve started feeling the baby too! It feels like little butterflies in my stomach.”

That had started a couple weeks ago; Harry had drawn his attention with loud shouts from the shower and Louis had ran to him in a panic, worried he’d slipped. Instead he found an awestruck Harry standing stark naked in the shower, both hands over his belly. When Louis had put his hand there (grumpily aware he wouldn’t feel anything from his end until the baby started kicking) Harry swore the butterflies had intensified. Louis was on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

“Good, good. Well your weight is healthy and your blood pressure was normal. The blood tests you’d had done came back perfectly healthy on all fronts. It seems like you’re the picture of pregnant health!” He grins and pulls the other swivel chair over to Harry’s other side and starts getting the ultrasound ready. Harry glances at Louis and gives him a thumbs up while he lays down and lifts his shirt to his nipples. Louis stares for a moment and then shakes himself out of it, counting the black specks of paint in the tile beneath his foot. Much more interesting.

“This will be a bit cold,” Dr. Law warns, spreading gel all over Harry’s tiny belly. Harry shivers at the sensation and digs his fingers into the paper so Louis reaches over to grab his hand instead. 

“Let’s see what we have here,” the doctor murmurs, gliding the probe over Harry’s abdomen until a grainy blob of black and white appears on the monitor. Harry and Louis gasp at the same time when they see the shape of their baby’s head. Louis scoots as close to the table as he can and leans across for an even better view of the screen. 

“That’s our baby,” Harry croaks, using the hand Louis isn’t holding to wipe tears from his eyes. “God, I didn’t know I was going to get so emotional.”

“Amazing isn’t it,” Dr. Law replies. “Do you two want to know the sex?”

“Yes,” Louis answers so Harry won’t launch into nervous babbling. Harry smiles gratefully at Louis and nods.

“Congratulations, you’re having a baby girl.”

Louis nearly launches himself at Harry to hug him as the other man bursts into happy tears. _A girl_ , they’re having a baby girl. Harry’s shoulders shake beneath Louis as he rocks with him as best he can on the table, shushing his quiet sobs and stroking his hair. 

“That’s our baby girl,” Harry cries. 

“I know, baby, I know,” Louis coos, tears brimming in his eyes too. The past few months have felt like a dream, but this--this is real. In just a few short months they’re going to have a tiny, wriggling, screaming little baby girl to love and spoil and devote themselves to. He squeezes Harry even closer, letting his tears mingle with Harry’s on his shirt. 

It takes them awhile to calm down, but when they finally pull away and straighten themselves out, Dr. Law is giving the two of them a fond smile. 

“A perfectly healthy baby girl, I’ll add, in case you were wondering. Everything seems to be in order. Well done lads.”

“Thanks,” Harry sniffs, giving him a watery smile. 

“I’ll see you in three or four weeks then, whichever is best for you. You have my number if you need anything,” he says to Harry who gives him a beaming smile and a nod. Harry has his number. His work number? Or _number_ number? He glances at Dr. Law’s hands right before he leaves and tries to find a wedding ring, embarrassed that he’s even stooping to this level. 

He focuses instead on the good news, sending out all of the obligatory updates to family and friends as soon as they leave.

***

It grates on him, because of course it does. He has all of these weird, nameless feelings brimming in his chest that he doesn’t feel he has any right to. Every moment with Harry at home feels stolen, like if Harry really actually wanted to he could be with some posh, velvet-voiced doctor with less hair than Louis. At any moment Harry could find The One. It’s not really even about Dr. Law anymore; at any point in the future someone could swoop in and disrupt the little family they’ve built together because _Harry isn’t his_.

He texts Niall about his dilemma and gets back in response, **then why dont u make him yours ! idiot !**

He could argue with him about possessiveness and how Harry isn’t anyone’s but his own, he really could. Instead he pushes his phone away and rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, his elbows rested on his work desk. What if Harry could be his? What if he went for it, really went for it, and admitted to Harry that--well, that he’s in love with him.

Because it’s a bit bloody obvious, he thinks with dawning horror. He is completely head over fucking heels in love with his best friend who’s having his baby. Everything is backwards, so ridiculously backwards, that he doesn’t know what to do.

He loves him. Loves his laugh, his voice, his silly jokes, the way he scrunches his nose when his hayfever is acting up, the way he looks at Louis and _listens_ like no one has ever listened before. The way he smiles at Louis when he rubs his sore feet. The sound of his voice in the morning, thick with sleep, and the way it sounds at night, slow and sweet and quiet. The way he sings and wiggles his arse as he cleans the kitchen and the way he makes everyone he meets feel special. He loves him so, so much. 

_What do I do?_ he asks Niall. He pulls up Safari and does a quick Google search on how to tell your best friend you’re in love with them. The first result says he should take it slow and ease him into it. With subtle clues. 

“Fuck that,” he curses aloud, drawing the attention of his coworkers. He waves them off with a smile and opens a different result. This one is moderately more helpful. First step, get them alone. Easily done considering they live together. Second, do something you both enjoy. The possibilities are endless there. Third, make casual conversation. Simple. Fourth, make sure they’re single. Obviously. Fifth, steer the conversation towards love. Sixth, write a love note. Seventh...just blurt it out.

“Useless,” he groans quietly. He thinks he could write him something, maybe a song. But that sounds too cheesy, and he’s not some mushy popstar. Maybe, if he’s tremendously lucky, he’ll do it for their anniversary.

**oofklgjlsmggggggggggggg youre so annoying ! TELL HIM ! IDIOT ! im blocking your number , good bye**

Such a help, Niall is. Louis sends him the middle finger emoji and sighs, tucking his phone into the top drawer of his desk. He’s just going to have to wing it, make some Big Romantic Gesture that makes Harry fall in love with him too. That’s the scariest bit of this all--how does Harry feel? He could fuck everything up if he goes for this, yet he doesn’t know how to stop himself. 

He drives home in a daze, barely even greeting Harry as he walks straight to the shower. He soaps himself down mechanically, staring at the white tile in front of him while he thinks. 

On one hand, he could maintain a very fulfilling friendship and co-parenting relationship with Harry with no drama or stress or fears of messing everything up with his gushy feelings. Eventually Harry will fall in love and fly the nest, but they’ll still be best friends and share a lovely, beautiful daughter together.

On the other hand, he could tell Harry how he feels. How he’s felt for the past whoever-knows-how-long without realizing. Harry could let him down gently, telling him they’re better as friends and he just doesn’t feel that way. 

But Harry could also love him too.

He dries himself off and pulls on some trackies and socks, plopping himself next to Harry on their favorite spot, the couch. Harry looks up from the book he’s reading--surprisingly _not_ a baby book--and smiles, lifting his legs off the floor to drape over Louis’ thighs. His reading glasses are perched low on his nose; Louis reaches over to push them up so they don’t fall. Harry looks back to his book, but his smile grows wider, his dimple a deep crater in his cheek. Louis reaches over to poke at that too, twisting his finger to and fro until Harry drops his book and starts laughing, pushing his finger away from his face. 

“You’re so annoying,” he complains, digging his big toe into Louis’ stomach. “You won’t give me any peace.”

“Hmm...you’re the second person to tell me I’m annoying today,” Louis replies, giving up on his quest to tickle Harry’s face and grabbing the remote from the coffee table. He turns the volume on low so Harry can still read peacefully and flips through the channels.

“Who told you that you were annoying?” Harry pouts. “I’ll beat them up.”

Louis’ nose twitches at the thought. “I don’t think you’re remotely capable of that, but I appreciate the sentiment darling. Niall said it.”

“What did you do?” Harry asks, cracking his book back open and crossing his legs on Louis’ lap.

“I resent the implication that he was correct,” Louis protests. “It was nothing, honestly. Don’t worry your curly little head. Onto more pressing matters--would you rather watch _Dirty Dancing_ or _Enchanted_?”

Harry closes his book again and tosses it onto the coffee table. “Can we do both? Patrick Swayze was such a stud, but Patrick Dempsey is just...steamy.”

“Wasn’t he McDreamy? Also, gay.”

“Guilty as charged,” Harry winks. “He was dreamy _and_ steamy, don’t even deny it.”

“You’ve got me there. Fine, we can watch both.” He lets out a long-suffering sigh and clicks on _Enchanted_. He reaches down and starts to rub Harry’s feet without asking, knowing he must be sore from being on his feet all day. He hasn’t complained much throughout the pregnancy, but he knows the little aches and pains get to him. Harry wiggles his toes happily, silently thanking him. Louis zones out during the movie, his mind still preocuppied with thoughts he’d prefer to ignore, but Harry draws him back with a question.

“Do you think you’d go for Prince Edward or Robert?” 

“Can’t say I’ve really thought about it. Prince Edward is quite handsome, I suppose.”

Harry frowns. “But he didn’t love Giselle for who she was! He just loved her because he was supposed to. Robert fell in love with the real her, even after she summoned a bunch of rodents and bugs to his flat. Plus he’s ruggedly handsome.”

“Such a romantic,” he coos. He moves his hands to Harry’s ankles and starts massaging him there instead, ducking his head at the sound of Harry’s pleased little moan. 

“I love romance,” Harry replies. “I love Love.”

“Never would have noticed from the hundreds of romantic comedies we’ve watched over the years,” Louis quips. 

“Hey! You love them too, I know you do. Just because we’ve been unlucky in love doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it.”

Louis ponders that thought, his heart thumping in his chest. “Have we?” At Harry’s curious glance, he adds, “Have we been unlucky in love? We’ve dodged our fair share of losers, but none of us have ever had our hearts broken. And we’ve got a little bundle of pure love hiding out in here.” He reaches over and runs his hand over Harry’s bump with a smile. “I think we’ve done pretty well.”

Harry cocks his head and gives him a curious look through sleepy eyes. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Scoffing, Louis flicks his fringe back from his face. “Always am, aren’t I? Thought you’d be used to it by now.”

“Prat,” Harry mutters, kicking his foot near Louis’ crotch. 

“Do you think--,” Louis starts to ask a little later, unable to let the topic go. “Nevermind.” He shakes his head.

“You can’t just start to ask me something and then brush it off. Now I need to know what you were going to say.”

“Well, talking about love and all that, and our little conversation a few weeks ago...I know you decided to have the baby because you didn’t want to wait around for Mr. Right anymore, as trite as that sounds, but do you think you’re still looking for him? Subconsciously?”

“I’m not signed up on any pregnancy dating sites if that’s what you mean…” Harry responds, sounding confused. 

“No, I mean, like, is it still in the cards for you, you think? You’re young and handsome and lovely, so I’m sure there would be a line down the block if you wanted.”

“But I don’t want,” Harry says. “I don’t want that.”

“Love, or a line of men?”

Harry shrugs, looking back to the screen at Giselle singing animatedly. “It’s like you said, isn’t it? The love right here is enough for me. Whatever happens in the future happens. But I’m fine the way we are. The way I am, I mean.” He rubs his belly as he says it, twisting on the couch so that he lays on his side. “Now be quiet and let me watch my movie.”

A little seed of hope tentativetly starts to grow in Louis’ chest. With the whole wide world waiting out there for him, Harry’s content with what they have, the little trio of them. That has to mean something, right?

***

The problem with Big Romantic Gestures is that they’re _really fucking hard to plan_. As much as he’d like for it to be, life isn’t a movie and Harry and Louis aren’t the dashing lead characters. Everything seems soppy and overdone, but then that’s what Harry likes. He lives for romance. But as it stands, Louis is absolutely bricking it and he can only plan so much when he’s scared for his life.

Harry sends him out to do some errands on a Saturday, giving him a list of groceries and necessities for the coming week, including this week’s Weird Craving, sweet corn and croutons. Louis saves that trip for the end and stops at the florist first, walking around the shop with a little notepad and a list of flowers. He’d spent his entire Friday googling flowers and their meanings and he’s come up with a bouquet to tell Harry everything he needs to know.. 

He pays an exorbitant amount for the bouquet and tells himself that if everything goes well they’re going to buy a house and grow their own garden so he won’t have to ever pay that much again. At least Harry is more than worth it. 

Then he goes to the bakery and picks up all of their favorite sweets and a little frosted cake decorated with hearts. 

“Planning to woo someone tonight?” the cashier asks. 

“Planning on telling my best mate I’m in love with him,” he admits. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Oh my god!” she squeals. “I wish I could do something cool and give you the cake on the house, but I think I’d be fired.”

“That’s fine love,” Louis laughs. “Just cross your fingers for me, yeah?”

She crosses all of her fingers in front of him with wide eyes, calling out “Good luck!” as Louis leaves. 

He picks up their groceries, grabbing some candles as well, and gets takeout before he heads home. He doesn’t think his nerves could handle cooking right now. It’s a struggle juggling all of his bags and the flowers to their door, but he manages, tiptoeing through their parlor to get to the kitchen without Harry seeing. He lets out a relieved sigh when he hears Harry singing loudly in the shower and scurries around the kitchen putting everything away. He sets the table with candles and dinner, placing the flowers into one of Harry’s brightly-painted vases in the center of the table. He turns mood music on low in the background and stands awkwardly in front of the table with his hands clasped in front of him, waiting for Harry to come out.

It’s not a long wait, just long enough for Louis to sweat through multiple layers of clothing, but Harry walks out of the hallway minutes later. He’s dressed in comfy pajamas, damp hair curled against his chest.

“What’s all this?” he asks, smiling at the spread behind Louis. 

“Right,” Louis breathes. “This is...this is terrifying.”

“What’s wrong?” Harry frowns, reaching for Louis’ arm. “What’s terrifying? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened. Well, yes, something happened. Something happened awhile ago, actually. Something very big and scary and wonderful.” Louis closes his eyes and scratches at his stubble, finding it nearly impossible to look Harry in the eyes. He turns and grabs the vase of flowers behind him, holding them between him and Harry like a shield.

“You’re speaking in code, I think,” Harry says. His eyes light up as he looks at the bouquet, reaching for the vase and sticking his nose right into the center. “You got me flowers!”

“Yes. Um, I chose a rainbow bouquet of my own creation. Florist said it was an abomination, but I had some specific meanings in mind.”

“What meanings?” Harry asks, curious. 

“I’ll start with the yellow ones. They’re yellow daisies and the internet said they meant ‘gaiety’ which I thought you’d think was funny.” He was right, Harry starts giggling as soon as he says ‘gay.’ “Knew it. The orange ones are gerbera daisies which mean warmth and happiness, because you make me happier than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Harry’s eyes start to sparkle the way they do when he’s about to cry, so Louis hurries on. 

“Green orchids stand for life and health, which I thought was appropriate for our little one in your tummy. Lavender stands for devotion...well it was one of the meanings. To be fair, if you google these, a lot of these actually stand for death and bad things too but I promise that’s not what I meant.” Laughing, Harry plucks a sprig of lavender from the bouquet and tucks it behind his ear. 

Louis takes a deep breath, knowing the next flower is _it_. There’s no going back. “And red tulips stand for true love. Because I do. Love you, that is. I love you. More than just my best friend or the father of my baby. I love you as my best friend and the father of my baby and hopefully the man I can spend the rest of my life with, if you’ll have me. And I added some forget-me-nots because they also stand for true and undying love and I hope you won’t forget me if this all goes tits up and I’ve ruined everything and you marry Dr. Law.”

“What?” Harry squeaks. “Why would I marry Dr. Law?”

“That’s really not the part of my speech I wanted you to focus on,” Louis wheezes out. “Harry, I’m dying here.”

Harry bites his lip and hides his face in the bouquet for a long time. A really long time. So long that Louis’ heart simultaneously drops and rises in his throat to hopefully choke him dead because this can’t--he’s mucked it all up. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Well, it was worth a shot wasn’t it?” He turns away from Harry and sniffs, blinking frantically to stop the tears that threaten to spill. 

“I think it would be terribly cliche for me to say I’ve been waiting a really long time to hear that,” Harry says behind him, his voice thick with emotion. Louis turns, looking at him in disbelief. “I love you.”

“You love me,” Louis says. 

“You love me,” Harry repeats, placing the flowers on the nearest flat surface before shuffling over to Louis. He wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders and tucks his face into his neck, while Louis stands still, dumbstruck. He comes to his senses eventually and pulls Harry close, holding him by the small of his back and rocking them both from side to side.

“We love each other.”

Harry nods into his neck and pulls away just far enough to give him a sweet kiss. “Not to ruin the moment,” he whispers, “But I think the baby is near my bladder right now and I really have to pee.”

“Go pee!” Louis laughs, pushing Harry away and watching as he scurries down the hall. 

He’s back in a flash and nearly tackles Louis in another hug, murmuring endearments into his skin while Louis laughs and rubs his back. He kisses him under Harry’s ear, trailing his lips from his cheekbone to his nose, holding his chin in his hands to keep him still when he goes for his lips. He kisses him slowly, flicking his tongue against the seam of his lips until Harry opens up.

“Missed this,” he pulls back a moment later to say, kissing his way down Harry’s neck and nibbling at his petal-soft skin. 

“Me too,” Harry whines and pulls at Louis’ shirt to slowly start backing into the hallway. “Missed a lot of things actually.” He winks dorkily and nearly knocks over a table before Louis rights him and leads him to the bedroom. 

Louis hums and gently pushes him onto the bed, crawling beside him to rest at his side. “Not sure what else you would have missed,” he whispers, trailing his hand over his bump to rest at his hip. He places his weight on his elbow and scans Harry’s body wistfully, amazed that he finally gets to touch him again. He moves the hand on his hip to his chest, lightly brushing his fingertips against his collarbones.

“Miss me touching you here?” he asks, bending down to lick at the hollowed dips of skin exposed from the neckline of his shirt. Harry reaches down and pulls his shirt off eagerly before Louis can even think about it. 

“Here?” he asks again, sinking his teeth into one of his pebbled nipples, flicking his tongue against the tip of it and pulling off right as Harry starts whining. “Definitely there. What about here?” He shuffles down the bed and hovers over Harry’s belly, grazing his lips against the peak of his bump. 

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “Missed you touching me everywhere. It was so hard sleeping in the same bed when all I wanted was for you to touch me.”

“I would’ve touched you in a heartbeat if I’d have known,” Louis replies tenderly, his cheek resting against Harry’s bump. “You’re so beautiful, Harry. And you just keep growing more and more lovely everyday.”

“Stop,” Harry laughs. “Now you’re just buttering me up.”

“Nope,” Louis shoots back. “I’m literally obsessed with you. Can’t get rid of me now.”

“Like I’d want to!” Harry honestly sounds offended, like there’s no world in which he’d do such a thing. Louis can relate. “I’m obsessed with you more. Your nose, your skin, your arms, your laugh, your teeth, the way your hair is all fluffy in the morning like a chicken--.”

“Alright, weirdo.” Louis hides his blush into Harry’s stomach. “We’re equally obsessed. Healthily obsessed.”

Harry nods serenely and rolls his head to the side, his hair fanning out on his pillow like a--like--.

“Your hair looks like a tree,” he blurts.

Harry blinks at him twice and then nods, like he understands the allusion. He thinks he wants to marry this boy. He definitely wants to marry him. They’ll have to talk about that later.

Louis rolls to his side again and starts tracing patterns into his stomach, little hearts that turn into big hearts, big hearts that turn into rainbows, rainbows that turn into secretive little wedding rings. He has to smother his smile into his shoulder.

“Hey,” Harry pipes up, his voice sleepy. Louis glances up and sees him yawning quietly, trying to blink exhaustion from his eyes. “I thought we were gonna have sex.”

“If you want to,” Louis answers, crawling closer and turning Harry to his side; he crowds up behind him and wraps his arm over his waist, holding Harry secure like the little spoon he loves to be. “Think I’m fine with a cuddle for tonight, actually.”

He waits for a response, but all he gets in return are the quiet sounds of Harry’s snores. He gives one last little rub to Harry’s belly, to the baby both of them made inside, and kisses Harry’s shoulder. 

He’s so grateful Harry let him go with him to his first appointment at the clinic, because now he’s got his own little family, his best friend and his baby held tight in his arms. It feels a lot like home.

**Author's Note:**

> throw rocks at me ik u probs are going thru a sugar crash rn SORRY!!


End file.
